


Better Late Than Never

by SpookyBibi



Category: Glee
Genre: College, Drama, Friendship, M/M, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/pseuds/SpookyBibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 years after graduating, Dave and Kurt cross paths again at NYU. Neither made it the way they thought they would, but now that they're at the same school again, there is a chance for Karofsky to make amends. Maybe he can have a second chance at a first love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU after NBK, takes into account that Dave was a senior during season 2.

He’d recognize that walk anywhere. The little spring in every step, the hand securely wrapped around the strap of his bag, it was unmistakable. Kurt Hummel is indeed strolling in this ordinary hallway of NYU, right in front of him, mere feet away. Dave can’t contain the lopsided smile that spread on his lips, remembering that a few years ago this would have been the perfect setup for a demonstration of “charge and shove”. How much has changed in these 4 years. How much _he’s_ changed in 4 years.

 

He feels the urge rising from his core, this desire to basically run after him, call out his name, make him turn around and see him. Instead, he slows down, observing the younger man looking up at every room number, obviously searching for his class. _“Classic freshman behavior on his first day”_ Dave thinks, amused and yet respectful. He lets his eyes wander on Kurt’s silhouette, noticing how much more mature he now looks. There’s an aura of youth that still clings on his face, but nobody would call him Ladyman nowadays. While still thin, muscles are much more noticeable on his arms and legs. Dave can’t help wondering if this is the result of sports (cheering counts) or if the result of necessary defensive measures. He sighs at the memory of the torture he has inflicted him, and ducks quickly in his own classroom, a way to escape both Kurt and the remembering. He knows full well that the reminiscing will not be avoided but Kurt can be. No way will their reunion happen in a packed hallway, with hurried people all around and the awkwardness of public apologies.

 

 

His marketing class starts in a blur. Thankfully, there’s no teamwork to do this week, instead it’s a full lecture. “ _I am NOT in the mood_.” he muses. His responsible side kicks in and he makes sure that his buddy Simon is there and diligently taking notes. Simon, always the good student, plus he is always eager to please and never refrains from lending notes to more carefree classmates. Once that worry out of the way, Dave switch off his ears and lets his mind drift to the past.

 

 

Four years can do a lot to a guy. God knows it did for Dave. After that fateful week, where he went from jock to unwanted first kiss, to almost outed gay, then back to bully, not much remained normal in his life. Sure, on the outside, nothing was different. He persisted with hockey, parties, tossing anybody below his social status into the nearest Dumpster. Kurt continued to receive daily insults and weekly slushies from him. And although he chose the easy road, never really talking to Kurt after their confrontation in the stairs, he managed to find a way to better himself. To his crude friends from McKinley High, Karofsky was still as much a good pal as ever. When he would get back home though, he would spend hours alone, talking to Blaine, of all people.

 

In the security of his dark bedroom, texts were exchanged, eventually evolving into lengthy conversations over the phone. Evidently, Blaine had reached out first; sending him offers to help him, counsel him almost. That guy was determined to make Dave’s coming out is personal mission. Surprisingly, he didn’t even hold a grudge for having been treated so rudely by him, and while he wasn’t interested romantically in him, he cared for Dave.  After 10 or so messages, Karofsky had given up ignoring him and had started replying. “ _Best decision I ever made”_ he thinks. Through those conversations, he found acceptance, growth, answers to questions he never had the courage to ask before. Hard to believe as it was at first, Blaine was also as discreet as a tomb. Despite being close to Kurt _(too close sometimes)_ , he never mentioned to him that he was Dave’s friend as well.

 

 

Months passed, and then high school was over for him. He did feel a pinch to his heart during his last day at West McKinley High. Every time Kurt would pass in his vision field, his gaze would lock on him, absorbing what he could, because it could very well be the last time. He busied himself with the details of his departure to shake off the sadness. Blaine had convinced that New York was an ideal choice for college. Diversity of culture and people would only make his steps to coming out easier. He had applied to several universities, unconvinced of his chances. His letter of acceptance to NYU, including a hockey scholarship, came as a total surprise. Sure his grades were fairly good (a fact he didn’t boast about, knowing firsthand how academic success is a subject of tease in high school), but he never expected to get in so easily.

 

 

And yet there he is, three years later, a junior in one of the best universities, majoring in journalism. Who would have thought a Neanderthal could turn into this? Once again, the change doesn’t show that much. He’s still on the rather large side, still dresses without any thought behind it, and still plays a mean hockey game. But he also has dates, real ones, with guys he likes. His friends all know who he really is and don’t care. Of course, that means he pretty much severed all ties to Lima, Ohio. He still goes back there _(it’s not home, not anymore, that’s here now)_ for the holidays, spending a few days with his parents. Those are awkward times, when everyone is simply too polite and no one acknowledge the fact that Dave is gay. They just don’t talk about it, and act as if he had never told them the truth, one day they were visiting him in New York. It’s becoming more a duty than a pleasure, but he tries nonetheless.

 

 

The sight of everybody gathering their stuff and getting up makes him snap out of his reverie. He stuffs his notebook in his backpack and follows the flow of students down the stairs. He purposely bumps into Simon, borrows his notes to copy them and, as swiftly as a guy his size can, cut through the mass of schoolmates to exit the classroom rapidly. He knows it’s only a stupid hope, to think that Kurt’s class must be nearby and end exactly at the same time as his. Well, sometimes stupid is smart (or lucky), because there is Hummel, looking as lost as before, if not more. This time, he can’t control himself. He quickens his pace, coming right behind him. He ponders whether he should call out his name, or maybe gently grab his arm. In the end, he simply leans in and quietly says: “You often make that face after your first class here. It’s something else than West McKinley!”

 

 

Upon hearing this, Kurt stops dead in his tracks. Dave can sense that he’s restraining himself from looking at him, afraid to confirm that the voice does belong to his former tormentor. That state of surprise is understandable, after all the younger boy didn’t have 3 hours to think about that moment like he had. So, without waiting for an answer, he lightly pats him on the shoulder and gives him a shy smile, before walking away.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, he is home. The apartment is dark, which means that Kara hasn’t come back from the day-care center. _“Good”_ he thinks, _“a little quiet is just what I need.”_ He adores Kara and her little Chloe, but sometimes living with a single (actively single!) mom and a buzzing bundle of energy (age: 3 and a half) can be exhausting. Right now, shadow and silence fits him perfectly. Not even bothering to take his coat off, he heads for the kitchen and fixes himself a sandwich. He puts it on a large plate, filling the rest of it with chips and a few carrot sticks (to have good conscience). He gets in his room, putting his food on his bedside table before letting himself fall on his bed. Sitting leisurely against his pillows, he grabs his phone while kicking off his shoes. “ _Time for some explanations.”_

 

The line rings 3 times, exactly. Blaine likes to prepare his “answering voice”.

 

 

“Hello David! How was your return to school?” Blaine greets him.

 

“Hey man. It was fine, I guess. I wasn’t calling you about that though.” Karofsky replies, his tone getting more serious than usual.

 

“Oh. What’s going on?”

 

“Well, you know, what we don’t talk about…” His voice trails off, waiting for his friend confirmation.

 

“Yeah…” Blaine answers, unsure.

 

“I know, we never stated ground rules or shit, but you never thought it’d be a good idea to tell me that the very subject we don’t discuss would be coming to my school?”  Anger is more present in his voice than he wishes.

 

“Well, I sort of hoped your paths would not cross… I know it was childish, it’s just that it could have happened, and then telling you would have been unnecessary.” Blaine says.

 

Dave sighs and runs his hand through his short hair. He just can’t be mad at Blaine. The guy has been a true friend, basically a mentor, to both of them. And while Kurt hasn’t been aware of their relationship, Dave does know how touchy and complicated it was for him. For a while, “caught between a rock and a hard place” had been the tagline of Blaine’s life. Besides, it’s not like seeing Kurt hurt him, in any way.

 

“Forget it, I’m not really mad. I was surprised, that’s all. It came out all wrong.” He apologizes.

 

“Kind of like you did!” the other joked, stifling his laughter.

 

“Come on, man! Uncalled for!” Dave replied “Besides, I wasn’t that bad!”

 

“Sure, David, you weren’t that bad: “Mom, could you do my laundry this week and, oh, by the way, I’m gay. Way to prepare the terrain!” he laughs, still entertained by the story years later.

 

“Yeah, OK, maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way to tell her. Anyway, there wasn’t a good way to tell her. There still isn’t.” he says somberly. A bout of silence comes, that he shrugs off quickly. No good can come from musing on his mother’s intolerance.

 

“Back to the real topic. When did you find out Kurt was going to NYU?” he asks.

 

“Pretty much as soon as he did. He was ecstatic about it. Going to New York, living near the Village, being able to see all the plays he wants to; you can imagine how much it thrilled him to be accepted.” Blaine answered.

 

“Yeah. Anyway, he had no idea about me going there as well, I can tell you that. He was seriously shocked when I talked to him.” Dave taunts him.

 

“What? Don’t tell me you finally got the courage to talk to him! Not that I haven’t pushed you to do so since, I don’t know, forever!” Blaine cries, nearly hysterical.

 

“Calm down man, no reason to get all frisky and excited. I just told him that classes were quite different from what he’s used to. It’s not like I made a public apology or anything. Besides, now I know I have time to get there properly.” Dave says, smiling broadly.

 

“You better get there. While I can be helpful when you bitch and moan about your regrets, you’re still a much pleasant friend when you don’t wallow in the past. Get out there, explain yourself and get back to me. I will most definitely want all the details! Oh, and thanks for the heads up!” Blaine chuckles.

 

“What do you mean?” Dave asks.

 

“About Kurt seeing you. Now I can prepare myself for the inevitable 2 hours of emotional dissection that he’ll need me to do with him tonight. I guess I better postpone my date with Ben to tomorrow.” Blaine’s tone is half-serious, which comforts the jock.

 

“Sorry man. Appreciate that you’re so cool about this.”

 

“Meh, I’m good at this kind of twisted situations, might as well enjoy it! I have to go now. One last thing, you’re still coming to my little _soirée_ next week?” Blaine wonders.

 

“Sure. As long as I don’t have to talk to every one of your snobby Julliard friends…” Dave retorts.

 

“Yeah, they can be a handful sometimes. I promise to invite some meat-heads so you won’t be too lonely.” Blaine teases.

 

“Thanks!” Dave says sarcastically. Back in his normal voice, he wishes him a good night and slowly hangs up. Grabbing his food, he turns on the TV and starts to eat, trying hard to resist the urge to call Blaine back and beg him for Kurt’s number in New York. Or to ask him to invite him at his party. Or to ask him to tell him everything Kurt will say about him tonight.

 

Because, even if an awful lot has changed for Dave Karofsky in the past years, some things haven’t. The little guy’s hold on his mind, for example.


	2. Chapter 2

Tuesday is a good day this semester. No class before 11 a.m., always a perk. Unfortunately, little Chloe has no reason to respect the only morning that Dave can sleep in. It’s barely 6:15 and yet she’s fully awake, chattering away. Her word range is still quite limited, which doesn’t mean she’s not a stickler for practice. He ponders the idea of burying his head under the covers to muffle the sound. Can’t help hoping to steal a few more hours of sleep. However, he knows from past attempts that there are no chances of that happening. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, a galloping sound resonates in the hallway, followed by the creaking of his bedroom door. The pudgy intruder doesn’t hesitate and runs straight to his bed. Grabbing the sheets and tugging them vigorously, she yells happily.

 

“Up, up, up, Davey!”

 

“Not so loud, Chloe, please…” he groans, feeling the blankets fall off his body and slink on the floor. The cold A/C air flowing on his body finishes waking him up. He peeks under his eyelids, seeing the curly head of his roommate’s daughter resting on his mattress and observing him with expectant eyes and a wide grin.

 

Dave starts to chuckle and swings his long legs on the side of the bed, careful not bump the girl’s head doing so. In one swift movement, he gets up and unceremoniously throws Chloe over his shoulder.  She squeals out of both fear and delight. Heading for the kitchen, he pretends to hurt as she bombards his back with her tiny fists.

 

 

Kara is already there making toast. The rich aroma of brewed coffee is lazily spreading through the room. He deposits the toddler in her high chair and playfully bumps his roommate, nudging her to grant him access to the hot beverage. She grumbles and takes a step sideways, barely acknowledging his “good morning”. He doesn’t say much, just advises her gently while pouring her a cup and slowly sliding it in her direction.

 

“You have to become more of a morning person.  She’s obviously one herself…”

 

She nods and takes a sip before answering. “F… I know. I try but her f…. energy is making it hard to compete with. I tell you, I can’t f… wait for her to be a teenager, you know, always sleeping off parties and s….!” A smile creeps up on Dave’s face as he watches her wave her hands emphatically whenever a swearword would have been heard. While she keeps her voice low enough to prevent young ears to hear, she still stops herself from cursing, albeit barely in time. Ever since Chloe had uttered her first word (“Jew”, although she was probably aiming at “juice”), Kara had been incredibly careful with her language. It had proved hard to achieve; Dave had never met a more foul-mouthed girl in his entire life. But he also knows that her rough and hotheaded exterior hides a caring, sometimes unsure, mother and a true friend. Putting his arm around her shoulders and hugs her tightly, a small supportive gesture he knows she can appreciate.

 

Letting her go, he sits at the table and hands Chloe her cereal. The breakfast passes leisurely, with Kara slowly emerging and Chloe concentrating on her Cheerios. Once his coffee drank, it’s off to a quick shower and out the door, ruffling the hair of both girls when he crosses the kitchen, which earns him oddly similar yelps of protest.

 

New York in the early morning is great. Just enough people to make the streets busy enough without feeling overcrowded. It’s barely 7:00, nothing special awaits him. His steps then almost automatically lead him to his usual hanging spot, a quaint restaurant wedged between two boutiques. It’s almost unnoticeable, certainly unremarkable. But they make the best cream cheese bagel he knows, plus it’s always calm. The September sun is surprisingly warm, so he carries his order to the small terrace out front. He skims the _New York Post_ as he eats, forcing himself to concentrate on the national news. Deep down, he knows he won’t be able to remember one article. His eyes flicker constantly towards his cell, carefully placed within range on the glass table. It rings just as he’s looking at it, making him jump sharply. Out of habit, he checks the caller ID and answers immediately, his greeting barely audible.

 

“Hey David, how are you this fine morning?” Blaine asks, his tone syrupy.

 

Dave rolls his eyes, already exasperated. “Come on Blaine, don’t mess with me! There’s only one reason you’re calling this early so fess up! What did he say?” _Man, I sound so desperate! Way to prove you’ve moved on!_

“Really, you think I have something to report? I seem to remember that _he_ was a no-no subject between us.” his friend replies. “Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair to him so you won’t have any details from me. That discreet side of me that you appreciate so much? Well  it goes both ways. I have your confidence but also his. I couldn’t betray that…” There’s something the way he says the last sentence that alerts Dave. Leaning back on his chair, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

 

“Shit man, what did you tell him…”

 

“Not much, don’t worry. I left that to you. I simply evened the odds. I figured since you’ve always known about Kurt and me, he should too. So basically now he knows we’ve been friends since senior year.” An eloquent silence ensues. Blaine continues, with a hint of apology in his voice. “Don’t worry too much about it. He was more pissed off at me than you. After all, you didn’t owe him anything, but I do.”

 

Dave sighs, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. How bad was it?” he wonders. “Well, I’ve had nicer conversations,“ Blaine replies, “but at least he let me apologize without too many interruptions. He’s still very much the drama queen sometimes! So we did the expected analysis of your meeting, and no, I still won’t tell you more about that, I explained myself and then he left. I went down much faster than I imagined, just over 3 hours…” Blaine chuckles.

 

“Damn! Guess that makes you friend of the year or something?” Dave says.

 

Blaine scoffs. “I don’t know, but one thing I’m sure of, is that you better be there whenever I need you to, no questions asked!”

 

“No problem.” Dave can fell himself relax. He sits straight and starts picking at his plate. The familiar chime of an incoming text rings, uncomfortably close to his ear. Before he can look at it, his friend quickly starts talking again.

 

“Oh, before I forget, Kurt asked me for your number and I gave it to him. Talk soon bye!”

 

Dave stares incredulously at his now silent phone, and the few words blinking on the screen.

 

_I think we should talk. Kurt._

 

Sitting in the library, Kurt is staring at his phone too, has been since he hit the “Send” button. It took him nearly 20 minutes to figure out what to write. What exactly do you say to a guy who made your life a living hell for years, only to make you question everything in one heated moment? What’s up? Don’t think so. He finally settled for the bare minimum, postponing the rest to a potential face–to-face meeting.

 

Regardless of the early hour, he’s expecting an immediate reply. He is tapping his foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. It’s not the annoyed look from the few students sitting near him that makes him stop, rather the “New message” icon that suddenly appears on the screen.

 

_“Sure, when, where?”_

_“Tonight, 8, front of the admin building?”_ he rapidly texts back. Once he gets the acknowledgment, he switches his cell off and buries it at the bottom of his bag. As if hiding it would help him think about something else, _anything_ but Karofsky.

 

Back-to-back classes are suddenly a blessing, especially if they’re demanding. He can’t believe how fast they make them dive into the subject. When he exits his last class for the day (French), at 4:00, his mind is wonderfully tired. _“Plutôt stimulant, en fait!”_ he thinks, surprised by how much he’s learned in a few hours. Right then, just when the stress leaves, the memories take its place. His vision blurs, and how he manages to make his way back to his dorm room proves impossible to recall.

 

The questions are all that remains. Those about himself for starters. There’s just cause to question his motives. After all, the point of reaching out to Karofsky is anything but clear. It’s not out of long-harbored feelings, that much is certain. _“I just want to know why, why and how.”_ he somberly tells himself.

 

 _“Why he continued to torment me after that desperate kiss? How he could have become friends with Blaine? Why he couldn’t make peace with what he is, and with me for that matter?”_  By then, he reaches his room. The wondering persists while he rummages through his pockets to find his key. _“Why is he here, when he could have stayed back there, with the rest of that depressing past? How come he seems so different, so… collected?”_

 

He’s made it into his room, finally.  A whiff of unfamiliar smells (wood, cleaning products and, he thinks, old orange peels) greets him, silently pointing to him that he still has to make this place his. He sighs and hangs his light jacket and bag on their respective hooks. He might be preoccupied, but it would take more to stop his reflex of order. His computer is already turned on; therefore it isn’t long before cheerful music fills the small space. He selects a techno playlist and lies on his bed. Maybe, just maybe, a synthetic, superficial sound can lead his thoughts back to simpler things.


	3. Chapter 3

Darkness is slowly invading every corner of the tall building, while the uncertain twilight is retreating. The large stairs that he’s sitting on are still warm though. The stone under him offers a welcome contrast to the cold wind has lifted since sunset. He arrived early, even if he’s not sure what kind of advantage it gives him.

 

 

Burying his hands in his jeans pockets, he scans constantly the surroundings. Few people to examine, nobody hangs around here past 5. Consequently, he notices Kurt the second his rigid silhouette turns the corner of the street. He stands up, brushes off the back of his pants and plunges his hands back in his pockets. Impossible to stare at him, it’s with careful, rapid glances that he tries to judge his mood before he reaches him. While he had been calm, he now feels a ball forming at the pit of his stomach. Kurt is walking fast, determinedly. The ball moves up to his throat when he realizes that the younger man is keeping his shoulder bag tilted towards his chest, almost like a shield. Strange, when compared to his apparent resolution. _“Unconsciously, old habits die hard, I guess.”_ he bitterly thinks.

 

 

He licks his lips and clears his throat. He pathetically tries to smile as the distance between them shortens, but fails as soon as their eyes meet. They’re only a feet apart, and Dave searches the depth of Kurt’s bright blue orbs for a clue, but he’s never been good at decoding looks. Sure, the guy looks serious but beyond that, he’s not sure. Swallowing his hello, focusing his gaze on his shoes, all very good ideas suddenly. There are a few seconds of silence, only disturbed by the sound of the rustling of leaves and the flapping of the nearby flags in the wind.

 

 

A cold hand grips his chin and forces him to look up. No words are said, Kurt just inspects Dave, releasing his hold with a sigh after a while.

 

 

“Don’t look so worried, Karofsky, I’m not here to get any sort of payback” he states flatly. He back away a little. “I’m not even expecting an apology, why after…”

 

 

“I’m sorry.” Dave interrupts him, unable to contain himself. They stare at each other and, for a second Dave thinks it’s about to turn ugly, but Kurt’s expression slowly soften.

 

 

“Sorry for what, exactly?” he asks, crossing his arms.

 

 

“You know, pretty much anything I ever did back in high school. The insults, the slushies, the pushing. Messing with your head with that kiss. And most of all, everything that came after that.” he replies. He can’t help feeling dejected, sensing that his apology sounds nowhere close to what he would like it to. It’s not his fault if he’s better with writing his thoughts than voicing them. His eyes are pleading while he continues. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I really am sorry for what I put you through.”

 

 

Kurt remains silent. Letting himself fall on the stairs, he motions to Dave to come next to him. Now it’s Kurt’s turn to fixate on the ground. Dave sits down and looks out to the horizon, unflinching when he hears the boy’s tranquil voice.

 

 

“I believe you. Thank you for saying it, I guess. I wasn’t hoping for that, but it’s always a fantasy, hearing your tormentor apologize.” Dave glances back at him. There’s the ghost of a smile playing on Kurt’s lips and he smiles back, relieved.

 

 

“Why did you wanted to see me then, if not for this?” he asks. Kurt starts fidgeting with his jacket’s buttons upon hearing the direct question.

 

 

“I wasn’t sure at first. When Blaine told me that you two had been in contact for years, it raised so many questions; I just had to find out the answers. Since he wouldn’t tell me anything, I had to ask you.”

 

 

“Yeah, he’s so upstanding it’s annoying!” Dave interjects. Kurt looks at him, genuinely surprised.

 

 

“You mean he never said anything to you either? He told me so yesterday, but I couldn’t in all honesty believe him on that.”

 

 

“You should give him more credit. Well, I knew you kept in touch with him, but no, he never mentioned what you talked to him about or what you were doing. To be fair, I had also asked him not to tell me.”

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

“You reminded me of what I should have done and didn’t. What I should have _been_.” he admits plainly. He knows Kurt is staring at him, he can almost feel the eyes looking for a deeper meaning behind his words. He turns his body to face him directly. “I couldn’t handle it back then.” And, unexpectedly, Kurt nods and smiles at him.

 

 

Somehow, this confession doesn’t embarrass him. Here he is, baring his soul to the guy who started it all for him. And yet, he’s never felt less ashamed, or more comfortable. All the confusion and hardships of the past years is dissolving in his memory. All the progress he’s made since the first realization (a Thursday in junior year, when Kurt had a smudge of chocolate mousse at the corner of his mouth and he had a flaring, _scaring_ urge to lick it off), it now seems to be building up to this moment, a final step toward acceptance.

 

 

A sudden draft makes them both shiver. “ _Moment’s gone_ ” Dave muses. Without thinking about it, his hand grabs Kurt’s and he lifts him up as he stands. Although he lets it go immediately, as if he’s burned himself.

 

 

Kurt scoffs. “Come on Karofsky, I won’t misinterpret every gesture you make. I’m fairly sure you won’t attack me tonight, you can make physical contact without panicking!”

 

 

A slight blush passes over the hockey player cheeks, fading fast. “I know, it’s just… It kind of takes me back. It’s like two worlds clashing, like maybe I’m still who I used to when you’re around…” Dave stammers. He inhales sharply. “Want to walk for a bit? It’s getting cold just sitting here.”

 

 

“Sure.” Kurt answers. They walk slowly, their feet adopting the same pace after a while. They don’t say much, each mulling the road that lead to this. Side by side, old enemies tentatively becoming something different, something better.

 

 

Kurt’s break the silence first. “Are we going somewhere in particular?” Dave is startled; he hadn’t realized that the freshman was merely following him. “Oh, sorry!” he exclaims. “I forget you don’t know your way around yet. We could go get a coffee, if you’d like. There’s a Starbucks right…, well pretty much everywhere.” he chuckles. Kurt nods and they resume their way.

 

 

There are more people out on the streets, pouring out of restaurants and into bars. It’s hard to continue a conversation when you’re constantly bumping into someone. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Because, as he checks to make sure that Kurt doesn’t get dragged by the flow of pedestrians, he can also see that the guy is getting more pensive by the minute. He stops at the coffee shop, holding the door and letting Kurt enter before him. They order (caramel macchiato for Kurt, cinnamon latte for him) and head for the far end of the store, where luckily a couple of deep armchairs are still free.

 

 

He impulsively drinks a large gulp of the scalding beverage, which results in him trying as best as he can to muzzle the coughing fit that ensues. He still manages to croak a question.

 

 

“What’s going on?” He chokes a little, swallows it back quickly. “You’re all silent. And you’re sort of staring…”

 

 

“Did you date Blaine?” Kurt asks abruptly. “What? No!” replies Dave, his brow furrowed. “Where does that come from?”

 

 

“Well, it’s a legitimate question. Put yourself in my place. I know you. But who I have in front of me is doesn’t remotely resemble him. You seem so at ease with everything now, well, except with me but that excusable. From what I’ve learned, Blaine is the only explanation for this… turnover.” he says, gesturing emphatically.

 

 

“Sure, he’s been a big part of my life but it’s like you said. You _knew_ me, and him. Can you really think he could have been interested in me like that? Or me in him?” the jock retaliates, incredulous.

 

 

Kurt rolls his eyes and mumbles: “In that case, I don’t understand.” Dave leans forward, putting his cup on the little table. “Look, I quit trying to categorize my friendships.” he declares. “Yeah, sure, I have pretty much nothing in common with Blaine. But damn it, the guy was there when I needed him. I didn’t have it as easy as you, you know, coming out.”

 

 

Kurt’s eyes widen, a flush covering his normally pale face. “WHAT? I had it _easy_? Are you kidding? Need I remind you that you used to make sure that I _never_ got it easy?!” His voice is getting louder, his eyes flaring.

 

 

Dave instinctively retreats and carefully tries to reformulate. “I didn’t mean at school, I meant personally.” he says calmly. “Look at you. Your clothes, your tastes, your entire personality fits into what most people think a gay should be. And you had parents who supported you. Your dad, Finn and his mom. And you knew that once you’d get out of Ohio, there would be a huge community of guys just like you.” He can see Kurt tense up but he continues nonetheless. “Me? I was a total jock, and I’ll always be. I can’t start liking musicals or fashion just because I prefer men! And as for my parents, let’s just say that they know about me but won’t admit it. So it took a while for me to find my place because of all that. I’ve spent years feeling like an outsider inside a minority. It’s was like I couldn’t win, no matter who I was.” His tone is even. His state contrasts with Kurt’s, who’s still red with indignation.

 

 

Kurt looks away, slightly ashamed. He tries to shrug it off. “Anyways, you have no right saying it was easier for me. I’ll admit it was a different experience for you, but that does not justify you implying you had it worse.” His eyes go back to the hockey player, and there’s defiance in them. Just a few seconds of this, and suddenly Dave is really tired of the confrontation. He picks up his cup and absent-mindedly rubs the already-chipped rim. “Do you realize we’re arguing about who had the shittiest coming out? Like it’s a competition or something.” he says. “It’s pretty silly, don’t you think?” he tentatively asks.

 

 

“I guess so.” Kurt replies. He remains silent for a minute or so and lightly chuckles. “Yeah, it really is…” They both smile, and a current of reassurance passes between them. _“Sometimes it’s that easy.”_ Dave marvels.

 

 

After that surprisingly simple defusing, the conversation falls into a casual pace. They talk about past friends. Dave is astonished to find out that Rachel and Finn actually got married right out of high school. Kurt maintains that it was because she refused to put out, but his goofy smile betrays his more romantic belief. There isn’t much to say on his side, once he had graduated, high school friendships quickly fizzled out. He just lets Kurt lead the discussion. Not even on purpose, they avoid the darker subject matters, not because of fear, more to keep this easy-going mood flowing.

 

 

Hours pass, customers come and leave but they don’t move. It’s well past midnight when Dave stretches his legs and muffles a yawn. The long, emotionally-draining day is starting to wear him down. He wordlessly waves in direction of the door and Kurt nods, not missing a beat in his telling of his final competition with New Directions. Once on the sidewalk, after the vivid conclusion of Kurt’s story (they’d won, albeit the other team accused them of sabotage since part of the decor fell on them during their number), there’s a comfortable silence. They both hold their arms crossed tight, since the wind only got colder during their talk. Dave extends his hand though, his eyes twinkling.

 

 

“Friends now? And you call me Dave?” he questions.

 

  
“Fine, _Dave_.” Kurt sarcastically replies. But he grasps the offered hand and shakes it sincerely.

 

 

“Good. Now how about I show you around New York sometimes this week? I mean, what Blaine won’t think to introduce you to?” he asks.

 

 

“Sure, why not.”

 

 

“Great. I’ll text you my address, how about Thursday evening?”

 

 

“It works for me. … Well, see you then, Dave. Good night!”

 

 

One last smile is exchanged and they part ways. Walking briskly to fight the strong wind, Kurt is feeling curiously energized. Not so much by the exercise. It’s more like an enlightenment of the mind. As if, even if none of his questions came up, he feels like they’ve all been answered. _“Maybe that’s what moving on feels like.”_ he ponders, happy.


	4. Chapter 4

For a second, Dave wonders if he imagined the knock. Granted, the incessant wailing coming from Chloe isn’t making it easy to hear, but the shrill sound of the doorbell clears up any doubt and he rushes to the door, glad for the diversion.

 

 

Kurt is standing on the other side, looking his usual stylish self. He peeks over the jock’s shoulder with a quizzical look. His face goes from taken aback to downright worried when a cry of epic proportion reaches the entrance.

 

 

“Hi, come in…” Dave says quickly. He notices Kurt’s look and addresses it as he gestures him in. “Yeah, sorry for that noise. Guess that’ll be your first impression of Chloe!” He grabs his bag and puts it on the table by the door. “We’ll be gone in a few a minutes. You want something to drink?” he asks.

 

 

“Ehh, what? Wait a minute. Go back to that Chloe and that ruckus I just walked into, please!”

 

 

Dave laughs joyously at Kurt’s lost expression and motions him to a kitchen chair. He sits down too, regaining his composure. ”Fine… That lovely “screamster” is Chloe, my roommate’s daughter. 3 years old and very vocal!” As if on cue, a piercing yell, sharp and short, resonates throughout the apartment. Unabashed, Dave gets up and walks to the fridge, pulling out a carton of apple juice. He fills a glass, shaking the carton in front of Kurt, who shakes his head “no”.

 

 

“And there’s nothing to do about that yelling?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable.

 

 

Dave leans against the counter and takes a sip before explaining. “Nope, just wait a few minutes, you’ll see.” he replies to a bewildered Kurt. The screams go on, varying in range and frequency but not in strength. A rattle of keys can then be heard, mostly just by Dave who’s sitting closer to the front door. It opens and Kara comes in, hollering “I’m home, d… it!” She unceremoniously drops her briefcase, purse and keys on the table door before sitting heavily on the nearest chair.

 

 

“Shit, that fucking day just wouldn’t fucking end…” she breathes. She then notices Kurt and look questioningly at her roommate. A strange silence ensues, and that’s when the guys suddenly realize that _there is silence_. A characteristic pace stomping the hallway breaks it though. Kurt can barely register seeing a blonde chubby girl running behind him before she jumps in her mom’s arms with a gleeful “Mommy!” Kara holds her tightly and playfully buries her nose in the soft curls.

 

 

Kurt watches them, amazed. There is no sign of distress whatsoever on the little girl’s face. He hears Dave answer his silent question. “Exactly. It’s all a big act. I used to fuss over her every time. It took me a while to realize that she’s just pouting because mommy’s late! By the way, Kara, meet Kurt. Kurt, Kara.” He adds, motioning to each of them.

 

 

Kara nods her head, the only movement the girl clinging to her neck allows her to make. Kurt simply smiles at her and rises. Dave mimics him and, after putting his glass in the sink, heads for the front door, dragging his friend on the way.

 

 

Once outside, Kurt seems to relax, speaking for the first time in several minutes. “Okay… That was unexpected, to say the least!” he scoffs. “You, big bad Karofsky, playing house with a disturbing girl and her toddler! How did that, _living arrangement_ I guess, came to be?” Dave stares at him, unsure whether he should feel insulted, finally deciding against it. _“No need to poison the evening.”_ he thinks.

 

 

“Well, do you want the long story?” He begins to walk down the street and Kurt makes a few quick steps to catch up with him.

 

 

“It depends.” he answers, a little breathless. “You’re the one who knows where we’re going, do we have the time for it?”

 

 

“Sure, if you don’t mind walking.” He looks sideways at the young man, instinctively slowing his pace to match his. Big legs used to long strokes on the ice are no match to these slim dancer legs.

 

 

“No problem, except this better be interesting!” he replies excitedly.

 

 

“I’ll do my best to entertain…” Dave promises. “So, when I first got here, I lived in the dorms. All in all it was okay, but after a year, I sorta wanted a quieter place, someplace I could make my own too…”

 

 

While they stroll down the street, Dave narrates the unusual story of Kara and him. He tells Kurt of the day he first met her. She was kicking the crap out of the punching bag that was hanging next to the spot where he was doing his push-ups. Impossible to not notice her, as she was seven months pregnant and pissed off in a major way. She was punctuating each blow with a curse, a different one every time. It took him a few seconds to see that, while she seemed furious, her eyes were also brimmed with tears. That’s when he got up and held the bag, preventing it from swaying everywhere. She didn’t say anything, but after a minute or so of kicks and punches, she collapsed on the floor and thanked him, panting. They had met again, bumping into each other while exiting the gym. Since she was clearly still upset, he had invited her for a drink. Several tequila shots later, they were much better acquainted.

 

 

“And that’s how we met.” Dave continues. “Turns out she had moved to New York a year before, with her boyfriend. She is a paralegal and she had just gotten a job with a big firm. She got pregnant, everybody was happy. That’s where she made friends with Lily.”

 

 

“Let me guess.” cuts Kurt. “Slutty coworker, stole her boyfriend the minute she met him?”

 

 

“Yeah, pretty much. Guess it’s a common story…” Dave sighs. “Anyway, she was all alone in that apartment, I was looking to get out of the whole “frat feeling” of my dorm, it just made sense to move in together. I mean, she can afford it by herself but I think she likes having someone she can count on near.” he shrugs.

 

 

“So, you wanted quieter and you moved in with a pregnant woman? You did realize back then that it meant that a baby would be there eventually?” Kurt points out, a smirk on his face.

 

 

“Haha, very funny” he retorts, deadpan. “Of course I knew! But I figured it wouldn’t be so bad. And really, it isn’t, most days. Chloe can be a sweetie!” he assures him.

 

 

“Fine, if you say so. I’ll still wait to see it for myself; so far she’s a scamp!” he exclaims. Looking around him, he notices that the conversation has run for a while and that they’re at least 10 blocks down on 6th Avenue. He stops Dave with a hand on his sleeve. “Wait a minute. You never told me what you were going to show me tonight…” He’s amused to see the jock actually redden a little. He’s even bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. _Cute_ goes through Kurt’s mind, too fast to be prevented.

 

 

“Is it okay if it stays a surprise? But I can tell you that two of the stops are sort of mandatory in New York, and the third is…, well, a special place to me.” Dave explains with a half-smile. They resume their walk and after a left turn, Kurt’s eyes catch sight of enormous orange letters.

 

 

He freezes in front of the restaurant, pleading Dave who’s now tugging him inside. “Come on Karofsky, you can’t be serious! I can’t put that sort of food in me. It will wreak havoc on my complexion!”

 

 

“Quit being such a girl, Kurt, you’re not a New Yorker until you eat a mustard-sauerkraut hot-dog from Gray’s Papaya! And I told you, it’s Dave!” Dave counters, basically pulling him up to the counter.

 

 

After many minutes spent in debate on the caloric and fat content of the menu, they finally manage to get out of the fast-food. Dave proudly smiles and munches happily on his hot-dog, while Kurt wrinkles his nose and tentatively takes a bite. He has to admit, it’s pretty good. He feels Dave’s eyes on him, gauging his reaction. Forcing all dietary thoughts to the back of his mind, he quickly eats the food, savoring it in spite of himself. He glances at him while licking his fingers, only to see that Dave’s occupied with the same task. He pulls his index from his mouth, takes out his handkerchief and dutifully wipes his hands, looking very much absorbed.

 

 

Dave clears his throat, and, sensing the beginning of an awkward moment, nudges Kurt lightly. “Come on” he says softly, “we should hurry up or else we’re gonna be late.” He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, effectively silencing Kurt’s questions.

 

 

They come down 7th Avenue and turn on 31st street and immediately the young man sees it. “Madison Square Garden? “ he questions. “I thought the whole idea behind this was taking me to places I wouldn’t go. And I’ve been to 4 shows since my arrival!”

 

 

“Not this kind of show.” Dave says, handing him his ticket. “Rangers/Montreal preseason game.” Kurt reads aloud. “A hockey game, really? That’s mandatory?” There’s a hint of sarcasm that suddenly sets Dave off.

 

 

“Look man, I’m trying here! If you weren’t so against everything, you could actually enjoy it!” he lashes out. Kurt, quite unsettled by the outburst, takes a step back. Dave runs his hand through his short hair and sighs loudly. “Sorry man” he says in a calmer tone, “I didn’t mean it like that. I know sports aren’t your thing, but if you bear with me, I thought about some points that I think you’ll like.”

 

 

Kurt looks at him for a second and smiles, a reassuring grin that relaxes the mood in an instant. Twenty minutes later (a lot of people to navigate through, plus there was the need to stop for snacks), they are seated among the legion of over-excited fans.

 

 

“Okay, first off, you have to get in the mood.” Dave starts off. At the same time, the lights go down and the player’s presentation begins. He has to basically scream in his ear to be heard over the announcer and fans. “That’s what I’m talking about! Getting pumped is vital to have fun!” He gets up in a flash, clapping loudly. When his eyes go down, he sees that Kurt is still sit, a mix of boredom and worry visible in his eyes. He stops applauding and yanks the small guy up. “Look, I know it’s a stretch, but try this.”

 

 

He shoves his bag of popcorn in Kurt’s hands and pulls him close to him. He can’t help smelling his fresh scent in the passing. _“You’re not going to think about that.”_ he tells himself. He leans and explains his theory to the young man. “You like music. Ever been to a club?” he asks. A nod, he continues. “Well, it’s the same energy here. Can you feel it in your hands, that pulsing? It’s like in a bar, when you can feel the music in your chest better than in your ears. Same thing, I tell you.” He lets go of him and searches his face. The realization dawns on the singer’s face and, seeing him laugh, Dave laughs too.

 

 

Three hours later, they exit the stadium, the fresh and humid air a very welcome feeling on their faces. Kurt pulls out his hankie, dabbing his red face lightly. “Dave, thank you for that. I can’t say if I’ll do that again, but it was a very unique and exhilarating experience!” he says.

 

 

“I knew you’d end up having fun! But it helped that it was the preseason. The fans, the players, everybody is more relaxed and just there to have fun. It’s like they all missed each other and are happy to see each other. Unfortunately, it does get uglier real fast after that.” Karofsky concedes.

 

 

They take a few steps, moving away from the sea of spectators still lingering. The adrenaline is wearing off and Kurt stifles a yawn in extremis. As weird as it is to admit it, he doesn’t want to go home just yet. This Karofsky is fun to hang with. He looks at him with expectant eyes. “What’s the third place?” he asks. Dave smiles knowingly and pushes Kurt slightly towards 8th Avenue. “I’m not telling you, let’s see if you can be three for three tonight. Go on, it’s not far.”

 

 

For a while, they walk silently, with Kurt twisting his head in every direction to examine every high rise, trying to guess which one could mean anything to the jock. He looks at Dave whenever he thinks he found it and gets a funny feeling each time their eyes meet. Dave shakes his head in denial, but the flutter inside doesn’t sway. Finally, a tall glass-covered building catches his attention. “The New York Times?” he tries, hesitant. Nod of approval confirms his guess. He wouldn’t have thought about that one.

 

 

“Yeah. I interned there last summer.” Dave says. “It was amazing. I mean, lots of people think that the news industry is a sell-out one, full of bribes and lies. Yeah, it’s sorta true, journalists can abuse the system. But I don’t care; I’m not going to be like that. And if it’s naive to think like that, so be it. It’s just, you get to learn so much, doing that job. The travel, the persons you get to meet. What you do with the information is up to you. I know I just want to help people experience and understand things better.” He looks up, contemplating the elegant letters on the building, the words that represent all his ambitions…

 

 

There’s a glimmer in Dave’s eyes, one that makes it impossible for Kurt to stop staring at them. “ _He looks so passionate, so enthralled…_ “he secretly thinks. Suddenly, the slightly accelerated breathing of that man next to him becomes the only sound he can hear.

 

And sure, it’s foolish. Sure, there’s no way he should ever feel this temptation towards him. Of course, he shouldn’t grab Dave’s shoulder and turn him in his direction…. But he does it anyway. Next thing he knows, his hand tugs at his collar and a second later their lips are crushed together.

 

 

Dave’s breath gets caught in his throat as all his world is all of sudden filled with Kurt. Whatever thought he had previously disappears, only instincts remain.  He senses everything that is _him_ , the sugary taste of his plump mouth, the roughness of his wool coat under his fingers, the saline smell of his hair gel. He moans gently when he feels Kurt’s hands circle his neck, while his come to rest on his waist, convulsively gripping it.

 

 

The younger man shuts down his mind and gets lost in the heat of the moment. While he never thought there would be a world where he would willingly kiss Karofsky (no, _Dave_ ), reason doesn’t have its place here. Besides, he can’t help the rush of desire that nearly overwhelms him now. He slips his tongue inside Dave’s mouth, feels the jock reciprocate and presses himself closer, only to be pushed away hastily, much to his surprise.

 

 

He stares at Dave, who’s very still and in a similar flushed state than he is (probably). “What’s going on?” he asks. “It’s okay, I want to, you… ”

 

 

“No, don’t, we can’t…, it’s not like that, I…” Dave cuts him, stammering, unable to string words in a coherent way. Fear, almost terror starts to rise at the back of his mind. _“No, no, no!”_ he thinks when he sees the quick succession of frustration, incomprehension, doubt and finally anger flash over Kurt’s features. An explanation starts to precipitate itself against his lips, but he doesn’t get the chance to voice it.

 

 

“Fine, don’t bother, I get it.” Kurt hisses, lips barely moving. With a swift turn of the heels, he walks away.

 

 

In an act mirroring one that he wishes he could forget Dave punches the nearby mailbox, denting it. The cold metal breaks the skin on his knuckles and he inhales sharply. The pain makes his mouth fill with saliva, and fury. Fury directed at him, a disappointment he hadn’t felt in years. He watches Kurt go down the street. Part of him is screaming to go get him, make him understand. That part doesn’t win tonight. He tears his eyes off him and, head hung low, starts walking towards his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I’ve never been to NY, my source for this chapter was Google, so if there are any blatant mistakes, please point them out to me. And I know the Rangers don’t play before October, but I needed them to so there it is!


	5. Chapter 5

“Anyway, here I am, on stage with all my class behind me. Just as I’m about to sing the last line, major blank! I couldn’t believe it! I’ve rehearsed that scene a million times in the past year, and it’s right then, with agents and producers watching, that I make a complete fool of myself. I’ll never get that part now! To think…” Blaine’s voice trails off, as he notices that Kurt is not even close to listening to him.

 

 

“Mmm…” he barely answers. Blaine stands still for a few seconds, watching his friend absent-mindedly chopping a small mount of parsley. He stops him, putting his hand on his wrist.

 

 

“I think that’s chopped finely enough Kurt.” he says in a slightly amused tone. He gathers the herbs in his palm, dumping them in the glass bowl in front of him. He resumes mixing his brushetta, his eyes trying to catch Kurt’s. “What’s up with you tonight? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet before.”

 

 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” he answers, all too quickly. Dropping fork and bowl, Blaine leans forward. “Kurt, I’m talking about a musical and you’re not chattering hysterically like a squirrel. Don’t tell me it’s nothing!” he exclaims.

 

 

Kurt finally looks up. He has never been able to hide his feelings, and tonight’s no exception. Such an evident confusion can be read in his expression that Blaine has to step back from surprise. He grabs his friend’s hand and pulls him towards the living room. “Come on,” he says “this can wait. Now sit down and tell me.” They plop into the large couch and Kurt immediately curls up, holding a decorative cushion tight against his chest.

 

 

“It’s about Dave.”  he starts, looking intently at the intricate pattern on the pillow. “We went out last week; he wanted to show me around New York.”

 

 

“Okay, what then?” Blaine says encouragingly.

 

 

“Well, we were in front of the New York Times building, he was talking about how he’d like to work there someday and I don’t know what came over me but I sort of kissed him…” he whispers. He can see his friend lunging forward, gasping, and stops him with his hand raised. “Don’t get all excited, he pushed me away as soon as he could.” he says sternly. “Serves me right, thinking he had changed. He’s still so far in the closet, it’s almost sad! Couldn’t bear to be seen kissing a guy!” he states unconvincingly. “Well that and I probably misread him. It’s more likely he never liked me, I was just the only opportunity he ever had to test his sexuality back then.” he finishes, his voice quavering.

 

 

Blaine observes the small man in front of him, notices his trembling hands, and an empathetic smile stretches his lips. “My God, you really like him, don’t you?” he says softly, barely asking the question since the boy’s whole attitude says it all.

 

 

Kurt looks away and the light shines on the contained tears as his eyes wander over the living room. “Of course I do!” he replies angrily. “What other choice do I have but fall for the one guy who wrecked my teenage years and now wants to be _just friends_!” he bitterly remarks, making quotation signs in the air. “Everybody knows how masochistic I am!” he continues. A few tears spill out, running quickly over his cheeks before falling on his lap.

 

 

Blaine, moved by his friend’s distress, scoots over to be next to him. He circles the small frame in his arms, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay…” he reassures him. “You can’t help it but it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. A lot of time has passed, who’s to say it couldn’t happen?”

 

 

Kurt untangles himself from his friend’s grasp and stands up. “Work out? You’re out of your mind Blaine!” he shouts. “I shouldn’t even feel that way, and I know now that he doesn’t, what’s left to happen?” He walks back to the kitchen, followed by Blaine, looking part sorry, part annoyed.

 

 

“Look Kurt,” he replies calmly “all I’m saying is that maybe, _just maybe_ , your propensity to imagine the worst is not helping you right now. You can’t proclaim to be all knowing in things Dave-related. You barely met the guy!” he cries out, frustrated. Kurt shoots him a meaningful look that doesn’t trouble him at all. “Don’t give me that, you know what I meant.” he says “And before you say it, let me tell you something else. Yes, he pushed you away but maybe there’s a reason to it you haven’t thought about. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean he doesn’t like you.”

 

 

Kurt makes another attempt to stare him out, in vain. Most of the time, fighting with Blaine only means delaying agreeing with him, so he cuts to the chase. Sighing, he sits on the kitchen metal stool and wipes his wet cheeks.  “What do you suggest then?” he asks.

 

 

“Well, for tonight, nothing. We just finish preparing this party and have fun. You could use a night of mingling!” he says. He’s happy to see the hint of a smile appear on his friend’s face. “Next, you go home, try to rest and relax. And then, when you have the chance, go find him and just talk to him. You’d be surprised how well he can respond to a direct approach.”

 

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Kurt responds, sounding decidedly unenthusiastic. Blaine rolls his eyes and hands him a baguette. “Stop pouting, start slicing!” he proclaims. Satisfied at the more believable smile he gets from Kurt, he returns his attention to the culinary details of his evening.

 

 

It’s close to 2 a.m. when the last of his guests leaves his once spotless apartment, now littered by countless empty drinks and crumbs. Luckily, that last guest is Ben, which means he can spend a few quiet moments with him without bothering anyone, or being interrupted. Therefore, it’s only after a lengthy, I-crush-you-against-the-door-and-leaves-you-breathless goodnight kiss that Blaine closes the door behind him. When he turns around, the mess that invaded his whole place dampens his mood, just a tiny bit though. A groan can be heard and he is reminded of his unplanned sleep over. He grabs a comforter lying on a chair and heads for the couch. He gently drapes it over Kurt, tucking him in. All in all, that evening went better that he imagined. Sure, Kurt drank his own weight in appletinis, but Dave didn’t show up, preventing any drunken confrontation. _“Gotta say, I‘m glad he didn’t keep his promise for once.”_ Blaine thinks. Contemplating his friend’s face, worried even in sleep, he wonders for millionth time if he’s doing the right thing by not interfering. Walking such a fine line between secrecy and desire to help is mentally exhausting. As usual, discretion is victorious. _“Okay, but right now being a good friend is a bitch”_ he says to himself as he walks toward his room.

 

\----------------------------------

 

There’s always this secret corner in your mind. That place nobody knows about, a space even you fear to occupy. Dave has been there for several weeks. He looks the same, sound the same, but inside, he feels just like he did at 17. Crushed. Disgusted. Remorseful. Hopeless. Automatic pilot is in charge of his daily activities now: classes, practice, sleep, with meals in between. Easy to accomplish, his attention is not needed. The last deliberate act he can remember doing is his last call to Kurt, the day after, where he had struggled to find the words. “Didn’t mean to make you think it was a date” and “Thought we could be friends” were the main ideas that emerged from his rambling. He’d gotten pretty much the response he expected, a scoff of disbelief (that felt forced somehow), followed by a dial tone. An absurd sound, when you think about it, and it had almost made his stomach heave. Since then, nothing. He’s not reaching out and whoever tries (Blaine, mostly, Kara too) is dismissed as tactfully as possible.

 

 

“Dave! Blaine’s here! Get your you-know-what out of bed!” The holler pierces the closed door and resonates in his ear, despite the headphones he’s wearing. He reluctantly removes them, stopping the game as he gets up.

 

 

“Sure, mom” he grumbles, wearily. He glances at the mirror on the way out of his room and tries to fix his hair a bit. He’s never been into grooming but being friends with someone as immaculate as Blaine does push him to try. He’ll look scruffy next to him no matter what, but he can’t help wanting to limit the damage to his self-esteem. Not that he really cares…

 

 

Walking in the living room, he finds the dark-haired boy already sitting casually on the couch. Curiously, he gets up as Dave approaches, rather than letting him sit too.

 

 

“Hey man, what’s up?” Dave asks, raising an eyebrow. “Oh and BTW Kara, I wasn’t in bed, thanks for making it sound as if I never get up.” he addresses his roommate.

 

 

“Sleeping, playing Call of Duty, potato, potahto…” she replies nonchalantly, not bothering to raise her eyes from the pile of files spread on the kitchen table in front of her.

 

 

“Whatever…” he says. His attention goes back to Blaine, who has his usual knowing smile on.

 

 

“You actually think you’re good at this, don’t you?” the singer starts. Dave stares at him for a few seconds and try to ignore the sinking feeling that grows within him. He crosses his arms, one last try at playing dumb.

 

 

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.” he answers.

 

 

“Yes, of course…” Blaine mocks. “Let me spell it out then. Monosyllabic replies to my texts and pretending to forget to call me back, well, they’re not very subtle ways to avoid the subject.”

 

 

Their eyes lock for a few seconds. An air of playfulness may be apparent on his face, but Blaine’s eyes are dead serious. More than Dave has ever seen them. His arms fall to his sides and his hands nervously rub against his jeans.

 

 

“Fine, you want me to talk about this, I will.” He knows his tone is too agitated, and tries to keep it under control as he continues. “Except there’s nothing to tell. Kurt misunderstood. I never wanted us to turn that way. He made it clear after that he doesn’t want to be friends; I figured it’d be best if we leave it at that. And it’s fine, really.”

 

 

Now Blaine looks frankly dubious. “Mmm, sure. And how many times have you told yourself that so far?”

 

 

A frustrated groan escape Dave’s lips and he lets himself fall on the couch. Looking up, he sees Blaine towering over him expectantly.

 

 

“Damn it Blaine, I’m being straight with you!” he shouts “Sorry Kara…” he replies automatically to the glare his roommates shoots him for his swearing. “It would have been nice if this could have become a friendship, I mean we were going along great, but he doesn’t want that.”

 

 

Blaine’s expression softens. There are a few seconds of eerie silence while he sits on the opposite end of the plush sofa. “No matter how hard you would have tried, you would have never been friends with him.” he states quietly. The tension fades a little inside Dave’s throat, replaced by uneasiness. Not much better.

 

 

“What the hell you’re talking about?” he asks, unconsciously shifting on the couch.

 

 

“You like him way too much.” he answers simply.

 

 

Anger rises again at these words. No more Dave, the Karofsky of old is back. “You’re out of your mind! I got over that years ago and you know it!” he shouts, pushing himself back up. In extremis, a last strand of maturity prevents him from going back to his room and locking the door.

 

 

“You’re telling that if I were to check your phone, I wouldn’t find every single text Kurt sent you, because you couldn’t bring yourself to delete them? Or that it’s not your Staind/The Wall playlist, aka Soundtrack-To-My-Broken-Heart, that’s on shuffle on your iPod?” he asserts confidently. He gets up as well, albeit in a calmer manner.

 

 

Dave swallows slowly and turns to face Blaine, his face a little paler. He hasn’t forgotten that his music player is currently paused in the middle of “Everything Changes”.

 

 

 “I can’t let you go back to where you used to be.” Blaine proceeds. “It’s like watching you throw away everything you learned in the last years.” While knowing how much he dislikes sudden physical contact, Blaine can’t help reaching out his hand and letting it rest lightly on Dave’s shoulder. He’s not surprised when a violent movement jerks it away but he sighs nonetheless.

 

 

“Besides, you’re not even looking at the real problem here.” he adds.

 

 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” the jock retorts with a smidge of mockery.

 

 

“You don’t want him to get close. I’ve watched you do the same with everyone you ever dated. As soon as they’re really interested, you flee. And you’re not even doing it because you enjoy the single life! You’re afraid to push the boundaries. I mean, you accept yourself and all, but up to a limit. Beyond that, you never even try. You won’t be able to stay in that comfort zone forever. Sure, really being with someone, on every level, is scary. But you’ll have to go there one day. And I know that you want to.”

 

 

Dave takes a few steps back, the flare in his eyes gaining in intensity. “I don’t need you to be a _fucking_ shrink right now Blaine, I need you to be my best friend, period.” he spits, fists clenched. “That means you keep your self-help shit to yourself!”

 

 

“Scream all you want, you know I’m right.” Blaine shouts back. “This time, you’re backing off just because he’s the first guy you ever had feelings for and you’re afraid to go back to that time. It doesn’t have to be like before!”

 

 

“Okay boys, that’s it!” Kara interrupts with the loudness in her voice. She throws her pen on the table, exasperated. “Whatever you need to sort out, you do it outside. Chloe doesn’t need to hear this.”

 

 

Both heads turn towards the young mother, then to each other. Blaine nods silently and leads the way to the front door, followed by a Dave struggling to regain his composure.

 

 

They rapidly cross the hallway, instinctively agreeing to finish the conversation in the back stairs. The door closes behind Dave with a click that almost echoes in the airy space. The thought “ _Mexican standoff_ ” crosses Blaine’s mind, almost switching his mood. Almost. His friend’s outburst swiftly breaks the silence.

 

 

“I’m not your fucking charity case Blaine.” Dave says aggressively. “You can’t just decide what I should or shouldn’t do. I’m grateful for your help and support and everything, but you gotta understand that it’s my decision. I thought we could be friends, it looks like it’s not possible, so it stays like that. And I’m gonna deal with it the way I want to.”

 

 

Blaine throws his hands in the air, incredulous. “I’m sick and tired of this dance you two are doing… I thought it wasn’t my place to say anything but there’s a limit.” he retorts. “I tried to talk to Kurt but he’s just too doubtful to act so I’m telling you.” He’s surprised by how pissed off he’s getting. Apparently, cool and collected isn’t the only side of his personality. “While you refused to talk about Kurt all this time, well for months almost every conversation I had with him ended up being about you! And even if he stopped mentioning the _incident_ eventually, it didn’t take a genius to see that _you_ weren’t very far from his mind anyway.”

 

 

He jabs his finger in his friend’s chest out of frustration. Said friend is standing motionless against the concrete wall with a disbelieving look all over his face. Dave does manage to let out a barely audible “What?” through his suddenly dry lips.

 

 

“You heard me. He never admitted it, back then at least, but it’s true.” he continues quickly. “Did I find it impossible to understand? Hell yes! I even thought it was most unhealthy and oh so wrong for him to think of you that way.” He guesses Dave’s protest before he has to hear it. “Don’t. I’m your friend but I can be objective too. Back then you weren’t good for him. But hey, you’ve changed. He’s changed. I still don’t get what you two see in each other but there’s something powerful between you two. You better do whatever you have to not let it go to waste, that’s it.” he finishes, almost breathless. He finds out that pouring out years of restrained opinions can be exhausting.

 

 

Dave has not a single thought in his head. Total blank, for a good thirty seconds. Then, it’s like a flood. Amazement, elation, questions, doubts, they all blend into a beautiful and confusing mess, leaving him slightly dizzy. He grabs the hand-rail and stabilizes himself. His tongue flickers over his lips, moistening them. Not much can be done for his dry throat though. He looks up hesitantly. “I can’t…” he whispers. “You know I can’t, not with him.”

 

 

“Ugh, sometimes you’re worse than him! Quit being so dramatic! He let it go, why can’t you?” Blaine replies, unmoved. Dave throws him a pleading look before closing his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.

 

 

“How much longer are you going to punish yourself?” Blaine lectures him, calmer. “It doesn’t matter how long it took for you to be on terms with who you are, and whatever you did in the past doesn’t justify your pushing away of any chance of being appreciated. You deserve it, and you deserve him.”

 

 

He watches Dave for a moment. He can see his friend fighting to find an argument and he unabashedly smiles when he sees him forfeit. “I hate you, sometimes.” Dave grumbles. The singer’s smile widens and he pulls on the jock’s shirt, making him stand straight. “Yeah, hate you too. Now let’s go back, I need my coat.”

 

 

He lets out a chuckle at Dave’s questioning face. “Yes, contrary to what you believe, I have things to do besides being your totally unappreciated therapist! Like rehearsing for the June exhibition show...”

 

 

“In November?!” Dave wonders.

 

 

“This is Juilliard. As far as they’re concerned, rehearsal started 10 years ago!” Blaine counters seriously. “So I’ll be off, can I count on you to fix your mess?”

 

 

Dave simply nods and makes a feeble attempt at a reassuring smile. Blaine reciprocates, with more success. “Don’t worry, it won’t be so tough. Kurt is going home for Thanksgiving, maybe you should too. Just saying, you know.”


	6. Chapter 6

Fulminating in a low tone, Kurt fumbles to lock his dorm room, his gloved hands clumsy with the key. He violently turns it and pulls the door shut at the same time. He lets out a “Finally” as he takes a step back but bumps into a tall person behind him. He turns on his heels, pulling down his scarf to free his mouth, all prepared to apologize.

 

 

“Finn?! What are you doing here?” he exclaims in surprise. He readjusts the strap of his backpack that’s about to slip from his shoulder.

 

 

“I wanted to surprise you.” he replies with his trademark lopsided smile. “I’m bringing you home for the weekend!”

 

 

“I was already going, you doofus!” he says. He stares at him, taking in the notion that Finn made quite the detour to be here. “Not the most practical idea, you extending your trip like that just to get me…”

 

 

“Come on, we’re in college! This is _the_ time for crazy road trips, you know, with adventures and weird people!” Finn explains, obviously thrilled at the prospect.

 

 

Kurt puts on his best _I’m-more-mature-than-you_ face on before replying. “Dude, you’re married. And we’re going back to our parent’s place, through the most boring states of the country. It limits the chances of eventful moments to, let me check, almost nil.” he states. He can feel the corner of his mouth twitch. _Damn! Never been good at this!_

Finn’s smile only broadens. “You just said _Dude_. See, crazy stuff happening already!” he replies, satisfied. Kurt tries to hide the warm, fuzzy feeling that starting to spread in him. He reluctantly gives in and grins to his step-brother. “Okay, fine! I’ll admit it; it’ll be nice not to travel alone…”

 

 

The lanky boy doesn’t say anything, simply lightly patting Kurt on the back to signal him to get a move on things. Kurt grabs the handle of his suitcase and almost runs to catch up with Finn, who’s turning the corner after only a few strides down the hallway.

 

 

“Wait!” he pants. “What about my ticket?”

 

 

Finn continues to walk, barely looking over his shoulder before answering. “Oh, it’s fine, there never was one! I just said that Burt had bought one for you so you wouldn’t have a clue we were coming.” he says proudly.

 

 

“We?” Kurt asks. “Sure, Rachel’s waiting in the car.” his step-brother answers.

 

 

“Oh. Great!” he replies joyously and he is genuinely happy to learn that. Ordinarily, the perspective of a 10 hours-drive with his former adversary would have been enough to induce a panic attack. But ever since she became an official part of the Hummel-Hudson household, Rachel Berry has been much more tolerable. “ _Tamed”_ he can’t help thinking as he maneuvers his luggage out of the building and down the snowy stairs. If Kurt was versed in psychology, he’d say his sister-in-law’s competitiveness and abrasive behavior were rooted in her fear of never being good enough for someone. Since he’s not into that, he simply thinks she’ grown up, to everyone’s delight. However, she still speaks way too fast and way too much, in general and about herself in particular. That will never change, he’s afraid, but today it’s a good thing. No matter how close he is to Finn now, they still don’t have that much in common to discuss and a long drive filled with silences would have invited some unpleasant subjects to roam around in his head.

 

 

He stops next to Finn’s old Explorer (a graduating gift from Carol, finally giving her an excuse to get a new car) and gives a timid sign in response to Rachel’s excited waving. It takes a minute to stuff his bags on the back seat and for him to climb in the car. No need to check for space in the trunk, knowing for certain it’s full. _“For someone who dresses as badly as she does, she sure brings a lot of options!”_ he marvels. Finn takes his place behind the wheel and soon enough, they’re headed home.

 

 

Once on the freeway, Rachel starts chattering like there’s no tomorrow, describing in great details her classes and teachers, how amazing the choir at Penn State is and all the projects she has for her team, etc. Finn sends Kurt eloquent glances through the rearview mirror. He knows there will be an opportunity (eventually) for them to catch up, once his wife’s rush will have subsided. Luckily, there are pauses in Rachel’s speech, whenever an inspiring song starts playing in fact. They sing all along then, their voice still mingling perfectly, like before. Kurt can’t repress the jolt he feels in his spine as he hits the higher notes in unison with the brunette. He turns his head and focuses on the passing cars because his eyes prickle. From nostalgia, or joy, he’s unsure.

 

 

Some time passes and there is significantly less action in the car. Rachel, tired out after 3 hours of carrying the conversation, has fallen asleep, her head rocking back and forth on the cold window on her side. Seizing the opportunity, Kurt encourages Finn to take over and to get up to date on their life. He’s pleased to learn Finn is doing well so far, managing to get a B in almost every class, even an A in psychology. Kurt used to have trouble picturing him as a social worker when his stepbrother confided in him about his ambition. Looking at him today, confident and motivated, it’s hard to remember the naïve and hesitant teen that was so easy to boss around. This field fits him like a glove now. Mr. Schuester’s lessons have paid off apparently…

 

 

Kurt fills his brother in on the details of his adaptation to the big city, careful to leave Dave out of it. If Finn senses he’s hiding something, he doesn’t let it show. Unfortunately, all this doesn’t take much time. After 15 minutes or so, they are done. Finn then puts on a CD, some uninteresting rap he enjoys for some mysterious reason. Feeling that he’s losing the battle against silence, Kurt searches frantically for a new topic to discuss but comes up empty. He balls up his fists and closes his eyes. _“Fine, I relinquish”_ he thinks, melodramatic.

 

 

It’s part sweet torture, part agony, that game he’s been playing for now 2 months. Reliving those 22 seconds, during which he felt more alive than he ever thought possible. It makes him tingle all over and tiny sparks appear under his eyelids. But it also creates a hole in his chest, a pit that seems to suck every breath out of him. _No, don’t_. Hours of conversation with Dave and the only words remaining are that hurried negation when he rejected him, like a slap in the face.

 

 

An irritated groan almost slips out, covered at the last second by a light cough. Finns turns his head slightly to look at him and Kurt is really pleased that the car is dark enough to cover his troubled face.

 

 

“Errr, Finn, any plans for the night or we’re just pulling an all-nighter and driving straight to Lima?”he says rapidly, gazing at the almost undistinguishable scenery outside the car.

 

 

“You bet I provided, I made reservations at a hotel that’s mid-way; we should be there in like, 45 minutes?” Kurt acknowledges, his eyes still fixed on the trees that flash behind the window. Deep breaths, the constant rhythm of the music, the lulling movement of the car, they all contribute to his merciful descent into sleep. Next things he knows, there’s an icy breeze on his face and a persistent hand pushing his shoulder. When he opens his eyes, Finn is looking down on him and teasing him about how he hasn’t been any help in keeping _him_ awake for the last part of the trip. After laboriously getting out of the car and picking up his overnight bag, he stumbles behind his step-brother and a zombie-like, yawning Rachel.

 

 

An uneventful night in a cramped motel later (next road trip, Kurt decides, he’ll take care of the sleeping arrangements!), it’s back on the road for another 5 hours. Finn promptly accepts Kurt’s offer to drive the rest of the trip. A win-win situation. Finn gets to sleep more, an activity he never ceased to enjoy, while his brother, being a paranoid driver, can keep his mind focused on external factors, rather than musing on Dave.

 

 

The afternoon is well underway when they park in front of the Hummel-Hudson residence. While they unload the car, Kurt sees a movement in the drapes of the living room. “ _Carole is most likely watching and waiting for us…”_ he thinks. Sure enough, a few seconds later the door bursts open and the mother marches quickly in their direction, arms already open. “My sweethearts, finally home!” she squeals, effectively making them all blush from embarrassment. It can’t be helped; she flings her arms around the group and pulls them as close to her as possible.

 

“We missed you all so much!” she says, her voice partly muffled by Rachel’s hair. She pulls back, holding each boy at arm’s length, her daughter-in-law in the middle. She lets out a little laugh and releases both guys to quickly brush her hand over her wet eyes. “I’m sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t become emotional but it’s… It’s just so good to have you here!” Seeing her lean forward for another embrace, Rachel and Kurt, by a mutual and silent agreement, duck under Carole arms. They walk backwards toward the house, merely offering a shrug to the young man who’s left alone to deal with his overjoyed mother, awkwardly patting her back.

 

 

They turn around in unison once they reach the porch and catch sight of Kurt’s dad. Burt is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smile playing on his lips, complementing the grinning faces of Rachel and his son. He sidesteps to grant access to Rachel, simply cupping her cheek in an affectionate manner as she passes near him. Kurt tries to slide inside as well, but is cut short by his father strong arms wrapping around him. Wordless, both Hummel men stay in the threshold, hugging tightly. Kurt hears his father clear his throat and sniffle a bit. It makes him smile tenderly against the denim of his father’s shirt. “I missed you too, Dad.” he whispers. He inhales deeply the familiar scent as if to stock up with it, while he can. _“Home… feels pretty good right now.”_ he marvels.

 

 

Thanksgiving has changed since his school days, Kurt thinks. While he has fond memories of the old times, when it was a quiet dinner, just his dad and him, he has to admit this is much more entertaining. The heavy oak table is extended to its limit, and it’s not too much. Burt and Carole are at each end, Finn and Rachel are facing each other, and Rachel’s fathers are as well. In fact, the only free spot is the one in front of Kurt. Usually it’s occupied by Blaine. He’s become a regular guest since the death of his parents 3 years ago, since Carole and Burt just couldn’t sustain the thought of their son’s close friend being alone during the holidays. This year though, Ben has invited him first. Kurt’s family had wondered why the tradition couldn’t be perpetuated. Frankly, Kurt didn’t want to interfere and bring his friend down, since he was _so_ giddy at the prospect of being introduced to his boyfriend’s family…

 

 

The dinner starts with 2 minutes of silence. All about compromise, it’s much easier to let everyone deal with their own belief separately than trying to mesh it all into an awkward sort of prayer that would probably satisfy no one. While they all have their head bowed down, Kurt examines the many dishes laid out in front of him, trying to ignore the creeping loneliness that starts to fill him. He mentally curses his self-centeredness, how can he feel alone, here, surrounded by everyone that loves him? Because a stocky boy is missing, someone who could be sitting in front of him and contemplate him the way Finn looks at Rachel when he thinks no one sees them? “ _Maybe.”_ he concedes.

 

 

A vibration in his pants startles him. His hand flies to his pocket, grabbing his phone to muzzle the buzzing. He pulls the cell out and rests it on his lap, glancing at the text. _I’m in town, I need to see you. Please don’t ignore this... Dave._ He feels the rush of what seems like his entire blood volume heading for his cheeks. _“I need to see you._ ” Closing his eyes, he tries to imagine the tone he should give these words. The well-known combat between reason, desire and reality begins in his head but he quickly puts a halt to it. He feels watched. One look under his eyelashes and, of course, Rachel is staring questioningly at him. Damn her and her perfect hearing! She mouths _who was that?_ , he answers by simply turning the cell in her direction under the table. She would have found out anyway, she’s still Rachel… She reads the message discreetly. “Dave?” she whispers, looking back at him. “Karofsky.” he replies in the same manner. Her brow furrows while she searches her memory for that name. Confusion only heightens in her expression when she recognizes it. She gasps and Kurt quickly motions over his throat, making her understand that they’ll discuss it later.  A nod and she returns to her supposed religious meditation. However, her hands wringing the napkin and the rhythmic biting she inflicts to her lower lip are definite signs that staying silent costs her more than she lets on.

 

 

He is thankful for the animated discussion and his appetite during the dinner, he decides. OK, maybe a few other things were good this year but right now, these are most important. Both made time fly and wouldn’t you know, two hours have passed and he hasn’t thought about Dave. At least not too much.

 

 

 

  
“Please, _please_ tell me he’s not back to his cruel, twisted mind games! I was so glad when he graduated and we could finally, you know, _breathe_ at school! And yet it was nothing compared to what he used to do to you…” Her voice is already shrill; her hands are already flailing around… Kurt knows he must stop her now or he will have a much larger fire to put out soon.

 

 

 He has to raise his voice to make the boisterous brunette hear him. It’s hard, and takes more time than he thought. In the end, it nearly takes an hour to cover the details of his history with David, both past and present, because frequent exclamations of surprise and shock interrupt him. A part of him is still amazed that he’s able to get it all off his chest and to Rachel nonetheless.

 

 

“So I haven’t heard from him since. Blaine advised me to go to him but I couldn’t. There’s a limit to the humiliation I’ll put myself through. Then I get this text, out of the blue. I don’t know what to think. No, scratch that, I don’t _want_ to think!” He knows he looks ridiculous, way too emotional, way too flushed… But Rachel is looking at him, her face expressionless. “ _She’s too calm…”_ Kurt thinks. She takes it all surprisingly well. A twitch of the mouth, that’s it. “Okay, you’re not more, I don’t know, flabbergasted? Karofsky being gay, his change of personality, anything?” he asks her.  “You’ll never believe me, but I sorta knew.” She replies amusedly. “Well, not _know_ know, let’s just say I had a vague idea he might have been into you back then. The looks he would give you sometimes, you had to wonder. Although I used to think that it was just my overactive imagination.” She laughs at Kurt’s astonished face. “Don’t be so surprised! Most people believe themselves far subtler than they really are.”

 

 

She slides down to the floor and goes to stand next to Kurt’s spot. “Just like you.” she confides.  You don’t hide it very well; it’s plain to see when you talk about him.” She runs her hand gently through the boy’s hair, careful not to disturb his hairdo beyond repair. He gets up with a sigh, and heads for the place she was seconds ago, starting to fiddle with the tools laying there. “And…You don’t think it’s sick or something?” he asks with a shiver in his voice.

 

 

She walks back to him, stopping right behind him. “Look, I might be the only one who can understand you. I mean, how many thought I was the worst thing to happen to Finn? Like I was a leech, sucking out his soul or something! Even now, I know how people see us, crazy, co-dependent, got married way too soon, etc. But you know what?” Kurt turns around to face her since she doesn’t continue, and she grabs him by the shoulders, eyes shining. “No one understands anyone.” A big smile illuminates her face and she takes a step back, letting Kurt go. “I’ve never been happier and I don’t care what people say, I know Finn feels the same way. All you have to remember is that, from the outside, every relationship looks screwed up. Bottom line, as cliché as it sounds, _you_ follow _your_ heart and to hell with the rest!”

 

 

She waits for an acknowledgment, Kurt can sense it. “I see what you mean. And thanks, really, Rach.”

 

 

“But…” she insists. “But the biggest problem is still there. He doesn’t feel that way anymore.” Kurt laments. “Wow, you really enjoy being the victim, don’t you?” she retorts. Dark glare ensues. “OK, bad choice of words. Anyway, you have the opportunity to find out! Man up, answer him and then go to bed because you clearly won’t be any fun for us tonight!”

 

 

“Pff! Sir, yes sir!” Kurt mutters, earning him a solid slap behind the head. “Ouch, you don’t know your strength Rach!” he protests. She pushes him towards the door, not sorry at all. “I told you it’d happen if you were to call me that again! Come on, execute!”

 

 

Although that conversation has somewhat lifted his spirits, it’s only temporary. When Kurt climbs the stair to his room, after saying goodnight to his family, his smile slowly wanes. Dave’s text remains unanswered and his own doubts can’t be quieted. While they say that it’s best to sleep on it, he fears that, given his pessimistic nature, the proverb doesn’t apply to him.

 

\-------

He is glowing from happiness. Quite natural, considering his thoughts relentlessly feed him reasons to smile. Random bits of pop songs keep coming to him; occasionally a line or two escape his lips. To the persons he passes on the way to the terminal, he looks wonderfully merry, even a little enraptured. Well, hope can do that to a guy. It makes him wonder what other kind of spells Blaine really possesses. How else can it be explained? The guy managed, with only a few carefully chosen words, to lift Dave’s confidence to unsuspected heights.

 

 

Once inside the plane, he forces his bag in the overhead compartment and seizes the opportunity to do the same for the middle-aged woman who sits beside him. He plops down in his seat and closes his eyes. The flight isn’t even 2 hours long but he wants to maximize this time. Details to polish, fantasies to make true, that sort of things.

 

 

It took him 3 days to change. Once Blaine confessed what he knew of Kurt’s feelings, his mind became like an energy-saving lighting bulb. After you turn it on, there’s always a delay before full light is reached. Well, once the seed of possibility was implanted in Dave’s imagination, 3 days is how long it took for it to fully grow. He reflected on the idea of Kurt actually _liking_ him, despite the hurt, the mistakes, and most of all, despite his failings. When he started to truly believe it, dreams emerged progressively. Nothing major, visions of him and Kurt huddled together in front of the TV, or busy with a heavy make-out session and some others, let’s say, more graphic idealizations. Stuff he used to imagine at night, when it was safe. This time though, it could become more than reveries. So he left his pride behind him and decided to admit that he wanted something, someone precisely. After that, it all unraveled quite fast. A dip in his savings for the plane ticket and the rental car from Columbus airport, a phone call to his parents to alert them he was coming home for a few days and he was on his way.

 

 

The traditional Karofsky Thanksgiving celebration is no small reunion. It’s more of an excuse to bring together every single member of the extended family.  Then they can either boast about their own success or bitch about those who are more successful than them. _“Holidays at home, or how to drive me insane, one relative at the time!”_ Dave thinks sarcastically. He takes a huge gulp of his beer to calm his nerves. Aunt Caroline is pressed against his side (that woman has _no idea_ what personal space means!) and is elaborating on the virtues of her 3 daughters. There’s no escape. He smiles and nods while she talks but his mind is miles away. His cell is constantly in his hand and he can’t help checking it every 5 minutes. “ _Come on Kurt, answer me!”_ he thinks, as if he could will a text from him. No, the phone remains silent in his clammy hands, and stays this way the whole evening. Finally free of family obligations, Dave slides between the sheets of his old bed. He tosses around for a good while. Whether it’s because of the many infuriating comments his parents made during the meal or because of his empty inbox, it’s irrelevant. One bugs him more than the other, that’s it.

 

 

He wakes at 7 on Friday. Definitively, his body isn’t aware that he’s on vacation. He comes down the stairs, only to be greeted by half the Karofsky clan. They really chose their day to be early birds! He grabs one of the cups his mother is filling with the coffee carafe. He has the time to drink exactly 2 sips before his mother tries her “See How My Son Is Normal” act again.

 

 

“Are you going to bring your _girlfriend_ Kara with you when you visit us next time, David?”

 

 

She’s not lying, technically. Kara _is_ his girlfriend, not in the same way she wishes, of course. He looks at her in disbelief. She meets his look and merely pinches her lips. She wants him to play the game. Calmly, he deposits his cup and wipes his mouth. “You know what Mom? I’m not in the mood for this today. Continue your charade alone if it’s that important to you.” he declares. The next sound in the kitchen is the echo of the front door being slammed.

 

 

He gets in his car and drives away, a little too fast maybe. Something about that stuffy mood inside the house, that passive-aggressive bullshit she always does. It just makes him want to down a 12-pack, chain-smoke furiously, any destructive behavior really. His grip tightens on the wheel as he passes a convenience store but he doesn’t stop. “You know better now, you know different…” he repeats to himself. A series of flagpoles attract his eyes. West McKinley High School, right in front of him. “I always forget how close it is.” he muses. Suddenly he feels a violent urge to go there, like a pilgrimage. He hasn’t set foot there since his graduation; maybe it’s time to confront his memories.

 

 

He parks the sedan next to the football field and gets out slowly. He leans against the hood of the car, tightening his jacket around him. The wind is fierce and humid. He looks around and notices how little the place has changed. Granted, not much change can be expected in 4 years.

 

 

 Out of habit, his feet lead him to the opened gate. He still misses football, no matter how much he loves hockey. He crunches his way across the frozen grass and settles against the bleachers.   He catches sight of a slender figure, jogging at the perimeter of the field. “ _He’s got the right idea for warming up!_ ” Since there’s little else to observe, his gaze examines the jogger. Total black outfit, save from the bright blue headset, whose cord flashes regularly under his flexed arms. He makes a 90-degree turn at the goal line and Dave can see his profile. “No fucking way. What are you doing here Hummel?” he mumbles under his breath. He crosses the field, walking at first, and then running to intercept Kurt. He stops a few feet from the boy. Kurt, deeply focused, nearly clashes into Karofsky.

 

 

“Move out of the way Dave, I’m losing my rhythm here…” he mutters. He pulls the earphones out of his ears anyway and rolls them up, carefully. Dave stares at him, unfazed. His reply is sharp, authoritarian. “We’re not kids anymore, Kurt.” he says. “I’m not gonna move, you’re gonna listen to me, like it or not! You can ignore my calls but you won’t ignore me here!” Kurt lifts his head as he hears the almost-shouted words, surprised. Dave knows he feels it too. Never mind what he just said, in some way they’re like they used to be. Especially right now: same place, same pent-up frustration… He takes a deep breath before continuing, knowing it’s up to him to make things move forward.

 

 

“Look, Blaine told me, he told me everything.”

 

 

A flicker of fear appears in Kurt’s eyes. Momentary weakness, he seals his mouth and hardens his posture. _“Kurt, always the brave soldier_ ” Dave thinks sadly.

 

 

The jock makes as if he was reaching for the guy in front of him. Kurt can see in the corner of his eye the hand nearing his face. Hell, he can imagine the heat that radiates from it, warming his cold cheek. It’s so close, he can almost feel it. There’s this boy, man actually, looking at him with a half-smile and brilliant eyes. And it could be that simple, but simple isn’t Kurt Hummel so he swats it away.

 

 

“Whatever Blaine said, you can forget it. It has no importance whatsoever now.” he says stiffly. “I don’t need your pity, Dave. Leave me alone, it’s all I’m asking of you. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” He finishes in a whisper, taking a few steps away.

 

 

”That’s the point, damn it! I haven’t! Fuck, you never give me a chance to explain!” he snaps. “Don’t do this Kurt, and don’t you walk away!” he adds suddenly as he sees him retreating. He grabs his sleeve and tugs it to make Kurt face him. The younger man’s expression (hurt, anger, shame too?) then sends a punch to his gut. Liberating him, he shakes his head in despair.

 

 

“Just hear me out, OK?” he asks. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he continues. “When I pushed you away, it wasn’t because I was scared of being seen or some shit like that… Yeah, OK, I was scared, scared of you. Or no, actually I was afraid of me. I don’t trust myself when you’re around, Kurt.”

 

 

Said Kurt is looking intently away. “ _This is gonna be harder than I thought.”_ the jock thinks, frustrated. He goes on with his speech nonetheless, pouring all his honesty into it. “It’s not that you don’t matter to me, more like you matter too much. I can’t explain it, you just do. And at first I didn’t want to confuse you, or screw us up any more. But if you want more, well, I’m here to tell you that I do too.”

 

 “I don’t believe you. “ Kurt says somberly. Those words, coupled with the conflict that so clearly tears Kurt up inside, finish making Dave snap.

 

  
“Fuck! You’re really gonna continue pretending? God, I’m this close to slapping you, I swear!”

 

 

“Oh really, already reverting to your old ways?” Kurt answers back harshly.

 

 

A strange air passes over Dave’s eyes while these words seem to float around them. Not one of remorse, as Kurt half-expected it. Not threatening either. The hockey player just starts advancing slowly, making Kurt back away at the same pace. The singer feels his stomach curl into tight knots and all color drain from his face. He bites his lower lip when he feels the metal of the fence dig into his back, preventing him from going any further.

 

 

Dave, still silent, extends his left arm and threads his fingers in the loops next to Kurt’s head. He leans forward, his breast ghosting over Kurt’s face. The young man seems to have lost his own ability to breathe, his features frozen. His brain registers Dave’s words automatically; they’re curiously smooth, like velvet to his ears.

 

 

“Maybe, it’s that’s what it takes…”

 

 

Kurt closes his eyes, just in time. Had he kept them open, he might not have enjoyed the crushing impact of Dave’s kiss to its fullest. Because it is overwhelming, this mouth devouring his, this tongue dutifully searching for his. He swears he can even feel the blood coursing under the thin skin of Dave’s lips. He doesn’t even realize that his hands are sneaking around the other boy’s waist to pull him closer. He does notice when one of Dave’s travel down, squeezing his butt, while the other slips inside the raised hair on the back of his head. When they part, a small whimper escapes his lips, because he already feels like he’s missing him, even if Dave is just inches away. He lifts his eyelids, gluing his gaze to Dave’s intense stare. Reason, that ever-nagging bitch, pushes the start of a protest to his lips. Dave cuts it short by a lingering kiss.

 

 

“Don’t start. It’s only wrong if you want it to be.” he whispers against his mouth. Kurt’s head drops and his slender hands come up, resting lightly on Dave’s heaving chest. The jock doesn’t push it any further, sensing Kurt’s need to process this. When the younger man lifts his head back up, he looks so lost, it wrings Dave’s heart.

 

 

He gently cradles Kurt’s face in his big hands and smiles. He doesn’t get one in return. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Dave murmurs. “Fine… I think I love you, Kurt.” he breathes. He tilts his head to the side, trying to decipher Kurt’s expression. All he can make is that the eyes he’s contemplating have never seemed brighter. _“It’s gotta be a good thing…”_ he tells himself. It presses him to continue.

 

 

“I don’t know why, or for how long I have, I just know it’s there. It’s everywhere, in fact. I used to run away from this kind of feeling but with you I can’t. I just want to see where it’ll lead us.” He stops abruptly. More than anything, he needs to hear Kurt’s voice now. “What do you say?” he asks urgently.

 

 

His stare is insistent but Kurt is no longer afraid to hold his gaze. He allows the growing wave of joy inside to show in a broad, dazzling smile. At this sight, Dave finally releases the breath he was holding. Kurt’s grin turns mischievous. “Why don’t we play it by ear?” he murmurs, leaning in for more. When Dave’s hand snakes around his neck, fitting perfectly, he gets the distinctive feeling that it could work. And when their lips join again, entering a sensual ballet, there’s an increasing burning in his belly that extends to everywhere, from his fingertips to his toes. Now he’s certain, this _will_ work.


	7. Epilogue: The Dawn of Us

Every few years, New Year’s Eve gets the temperature it deserves. Fat, soft snowflakes that fall lazily, crisp but not too cold wind that turns cheeks pink. The kind of weather people always assume for a winter in New York city, the result of countless Christmas movies that have spread that propaganda for decades. Truth be told, there are probably many holidays that have enjoyed that picture-perfect setting in the past. The only problem is that today isn’t one of them. It doesn’t look that bad at first. After all, the sun has shined all day long and the sky has remained clear once the night has come. What’s actually insufferable is the temperature, the beyond belief cold.

 

Dave jumps from one foot to the other; the balancing helps him to prevent permanent freezing of his toes. “This is _bad_ ” he thinks. If his heavy frame has trouble dealing with the biting cold so quickly, how will Kurt survive it? The slender boy will never withstand it for the whole evening. And to think that they could be spending the last hours of 2014 under the covers… Regardless of what they could have done under said blankets, the mere warmth would have been enough. “Damn you Blaine and your _activities_!” he breathes through his lips. Was it too much to ask, a little private time with his brand new boyfriend? On the other hand, how do you refuse the plan of a best friend? Especially one who made this whole boyfriend thing possible…

 

Dave lets out a shivering groan and starts pacing in front of Kurt’s building, because simply bouncing isn’t doing it anymore. He resists the desire to check the time again. Spend enough time with Kurt and you’ll learn that he’s always fashionably late. Never overdoing it though. So when they agreed they’ll meet up at 9, Dave knows he’ll have to wait until 9:10ish for him, no matter what. Besides, he checked a minute ago and it was 9:08. Therefore, he keeps his eyes constantly on the glass door and a few seconds later, shiny leather boots appear at the top of the stairs. That's when it hits him.

 

For Dave, there are two kinds of happiness. There’s your “ _I’m so happy_!” like when you receive good news. Then there’s your deeper one. The one that warms your skin and makes your heart skips a beat. Watching Kurt racing down the stairs to meet him, all excited and eyes twinkling, well, that certainly falls into the second category.

 

Kurt violently pushes the door open and stops his run in a screech, inches from Dave. “Can you believe it? We’re actually starting the New Year in the most popular spot in the world! I feel… no, there are no words to describe my state!” he squeals.

 

His glee is contagious; Dave can’t refrain from smiling in response. A particularly sneaky whiff of icy air gets under his scarf, sending a tremble throughout his body. No more smiling. “At least _you’re_ eager to do this. I can’t believe Blaine is making us go out when it’s this cold.” he whines, teeth chattering.

 

“Don’t be so morose.” the singer retorts, sliding his arm under Dave’s. He starts walking briskly, forcing Dave to follow. “We’ll warm up at Josh’s party, in the meantime I’m there if you need something hot…” he says in a cheeky tone.

 

Dave doesn’t answer, simply tightening his grip around the slim arm.

 

“What?” Kurt asks, feeling the pressure on his forearm.

 

“Nothing, I’m just… You just cheered me up, I guess… Never mind.” Dave replies.

 

“ _I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t keep it in! I have to mentally slap myself every minute of every day just to make sure I’m not dreaming! Because I can’t believe that you’re here, that it can be that easy!”_ his mind screams. He has to bite his bottom lip to keep the words at bay. Even  when he starts to wonder if his incisive will leave a bloody imprint, he still doesn’t release his mouth.

 

Since their reunion back in Lima, he never even came close to voicing those feelings. And he’s not going to start now. How could he, when Kurt is so relaxed about their relationship, so easygoing, so _carefree_?

 

Four weeks of dates, of torrid make-out sessions. Four weekends of unbridled sex, of barely leaving the bedroom for meals. A practice that threatened to make them both flunk a few classes.

 

And while there have been a few sparse hints from Kurt (a look in the morning, a tender smile after one of his stupid jokes…) nothing clear has been expressed. It’s driving Dave mad. _“Play it by ear, fine! I’d still like to know what music sheet you follow!”_ he muses. As they walk toward the subway, he fixes his gaze on Kurt’s profile, hoping his thoughts can somehow be answered telepathically.

 

“Dave? You’re staring at me again…Look, I know what you’re thinking.” Kurt says with a sigh.

 

Dave, feeling the rush of blood heading for his cheeks, turns his head away and tries to sound casual. “I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, what do you mean?”

 

“I’m not completely oblivious, contrary to what you believe. I know you hate this idea. I’ll even agree with you, to some extent. Is spending New Year’s Eve with thousands of people in the cold ideal? Nope, but it’s something I have to do! Young man, first year in the Big Apple, a prey to the tourist trap that Times Square is… Totally kitsch, totally me!” he says with a flourish of the hand.

 

Dave lets out a breathy laugh, partly amused by his boyfriend’s theatrical manner, partly relieved that his insecurities remain unknown. “ _Fuck, you don’t even know what you want do you?_ ” he chastises.  He steadies his grip on Kurt’s arm, now leading the way as they go down the stairs to the subway.

 

The following ride is rather silent; both men are focused on surviving the journey. So many persons pressed together in their heavy winter coat, the strange smells and the humidity of the ambient air, the mix is almost enough to make them pass out.

 

As soon as the doors open at their stop, Dave takes hold of Kurt’s hand and heads for the stairs. Stairs that he climbs up in a few strides, taking the steps three at the time. Kurt nearly falls once or twice, not used to this urgent pace.

 

“Jesus, Dave, what’s the rush?” he pants once they’re outside.

 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t bear it any longer.”  Dave replies. He inhales deeply, the crisp winter air refreshing his lungs in a most agreeable manner. “Ugh, that woman right next to us, was today the first day she took that coat out? It smelled as if it’s been buried in mothballs since the twenties!”

 

Kurt snorts and lets go of his boyfriend’s hand. “You’re right, it was rather suffocating with her in there!” He looks around quickly. “Blaine told you we were meeting up where exactly? I don’t see him, or Ben.”

 

Dave is just about to answer when a violent exclamation covers the background noise of the street. Both their heads turn in that direction, comically synchronized. As they would have guessed, the former Warbler is engaged in another epic fight with Ben, a routine by now.

 

They stand aside. No way they’ll miss that, but they won’t get involved either. While Ben and Blaine never argue about important stuff, their combined artistic tempers always make for one impressive show.

 

“How can you even say that! It was the ideal horror movie!” The yell is so loud, a few persons actually stop in their tracks to check out the commotion.

 

“My point exactly. It’s supposed to be a suspense, and it wasn’t a very good one then!” The reply is expressed in the same heavy manner.

 

Dave exchanges a look with Kurt, motioning to the debating pair. Kurt nods and they approach the other couple. They don't quite get what is said next, what with the overlapping protests and shouts. They can still see what happens next though.

 

Ben leans in and kisses Blaine, deeply. The singer struggles for a few seconds and some muffled words continue to leak from his mouth. Another few seconds pass and they pull apart, Ben with a victorious smile, Blaine with a scowl. By then, Dave and Kurt are fairly close, nearing them from behind.

 

Blaine takes the opportunity to reprimand his boyfriend. “You won’t be able to win every argument like this you know…”

 

“Don’t need to, honey. You’re gonna watch Alien, the _real one_ , and you’re gonna agree with me. I’m right. As usual.” Ben replies.

 

“God, get over yourself man. You're gonna have to let that _Alien 5 is a travesty_ go.” Dave interrupts. He slaps Ben on the back, an unorthodox albeit effective way to put a stop to the argument. “Now you two get a move on, we should try to get as close to the tower as possible while we can!”

 

Times Square is jam-packed, thankfully. With the freezing wind that continuously blows, the heat of both the crowd and the excitation of the celebration combined are going to be most appreciated. It’s up to Ben and Dave to fight the way to a respectable spot for the group. Dave is suddenly grateful for Ben’s shape, just as stocky as him but five inches taller, at least.

 

He’s literally a snowplow, albeit a considerate one. The only thing Dave has to do is keep the passage open long enough for Blaine and Kurt to squeeze through. When it’s clear that there’s no going further, they settle into their natural position, Dave and Ben wrapping their arms around their respective boyfriend protectively. Huddled comfortably, they let the surrounding trepidation carry their mood, soon becoming as hysterical as everybody else.

 

“10!... 9!” The whole city seems to shout the last seconds together. Then again, it probably is. Dave is oblivious to the ruckus, because Kurt has taken a step forward and now turns around to face him. Dave can see every flash of the fireworks reflecting in Kurt’s blue irises and it’s a sight to behold. There must something equally fascinating in Dave’s gaze because Kurt is staring just as intensely.

 

“Hey, lovebirds!” Blaine teases. “The show is up there, not in your eyes, as lovely as they are!”

 

“8!...7!...” The ball keeps descending on its pole, ignored by the foursome.

 

“Aw, give me a break!” Dave says, his eyes still locked with Kurt’s. “You’re just jealous!”

 

“Hum, no. Not at all.” Blaine smirks as he tilts his head upwards, stealing a kiss from his own boyfriend. “I’m quite fine!”

 

“2!...1!... Happy New Year!” The exclamations and wishes explode all around, with whistles and hurrays. Dave and Kurt smile brightly at each other. Just as he leans toward Kurt, Dave is hurled forward, knocking his boyfriend in the passing. A domino effect is set in motion, while a clamor rises behind the group. Dave turns around to find out the source of the disturbance, only to be greeted by a pair of shoes that makes hard contact with his cheek. He succeeds at keeping his balance by leaning on Ben and Blaine. “Sorry guys!” he says quickly. Looking around for Kurt, who escaped his grasp, he is distracted by the body-surfer who just kicked him. The guy passes over his head, wobbly. He has a fleeting idea to punch him but controls himself, afraid to hurt anybody by doing so. It’s an irrelevant precaution, since the persons ahead of him fail to carry the body-surfer away.

 

 

“Watch out Kurt!” Dave yells, on the off-chance his warning might reach his boyfriend’s ears in the cacophony. The stranger wavers on the raised hands holding him and tumbles down, dragging a dozen persons with him.

 

In a flash, Dave is on his knees, not minding the muddy snow that immediately goes through his jeans. There’s a pile of arms and legs entwined on the street but with one quick look he locates Kurt’s bright leather coat poking through. “ _No time to be gentle_ ” he thinks, roughly pushing people aside to reach his boyfriend. Once he is accessible, he slides his palms under Kurt’s armpits and lifts him up.

 

He examines Kurt, palpating his arms, face and neck frantically. All the while asking him repeatedly if he’s okay, unable to hear Kurt’s constant reassurances. It takes a whole minute but Dave stops, finally. Eyes growing wide, he forcefully swallows back his rage when he notices the marks on Kurt. Nothing major, a few cuts caused by the gravel on the street, one palm scratched and some ruined clothes. Still, it’s enough to send him on a collision course, destination: that jackass who made Kurt fall.

 

“No Dave, it’s not impor-“ Kurt starts.

 

The protest dimly registers in Dave’s mind, but the hand that tugs his coat does a better job at stopping him. Kurt’s fingers curl around the thick fabric and pull him back.

 

One quick turnaround and the slender singer is brought back in Dave’s arms. He lifts the injured palm to his lips; planting kisses light as a feather on the damaged skin. “Sorry baby…” he apologizes. “Old instincts kicking in, you know…”

 

The hand escapes his ministrations to snake around his neck, turning the comforting gesture into a tight hug. “Forget it, Dave, he didn’t even really hurt me.” Kurt whispers against Dave’s shoulder.

 

“I know, it’s just…” Dave's voice trails off. He can’t say it. The past, even forgiven, is not forgotten in his head. Every attack on his boyfriend, however small, has to be avenged. He knows it’s as much fueled by a desire to protect him than by a need to atone for past conduct. So, yeah, it’s unhealthy, holding on like this. At least he’s aware of it. It’s a step.

 

“Fine.” he sighs, pulling away. “That guy's still a douche who shoulda stay home!”

 

“Agreed, now let's enjoy the show!” Kurt replies joyously.

 

Dave merely smiles, once again amazed by Kurt's positivism. There is just no dampening his mood. It makes him lighten up too, although the immense crowd is growingly getting on his nerves. He holds back an annoyed groan when he's once again bumped by a passing guy, pushing him against Kurt. Who grins at the renewed intimate contact.

 

“Can't control yourself, can you? We have time baby, the night is young!”

 

“No, it was...” Dave starts. He's quickly cut off by his boyfriend's lips planting swift kisses on his. Giving in, his hands crawl up to cradle Kurt's face, while he tempers his lover's ardor by deepening the kiss, languidly sliding his tongue inside Kurt's mouth. For a few magical seconds, the cold air, weird smells and rude people are forgotten, scared off by the passion that spreads and clouds Dave's mind. The return to reality when they pull apart is glacial for the jock. The racket hasn't died down, the temperature is still unbearable... While Dave is trying to both catch his breath and keep the romance of the moment alive, the surroundings are making it quite difficult. He stares into Kurt's gentle eyes, gets a soft smile in response. Ben suddenly intervenes, with the proposition Dave has been craving for hours.

 

“Guys? What do you say we head for Josh's party now?”

 

 A grateful, loud “Yes!” is immediately heard and soon they're all fighting their way out of the street and into the subway entrance.

 

By the time 3 am. comes around, he’s not entirely sure what he wants. Desire swirls in his head. Desire for Kurt, then for sleep, then for food, then for Kurt again, then… “Whoa” he mumbles, tumbling down the hallway leading to his apartment, a giggling Kurt close behind. Maybe all those beers on top of the champagne weren’t such a good idea. Thankfully, Kara is spending the holidays back home in Vermont, freeing him from the worry of waking up Chloe with his drunken ways.

 

It takes a full minute for his shaking hands to work the lock and allow them to enter. Both shed  their coat and shoes messily in the hallway. As soon as they're in, Kurt aims straight for the couch, while Dave veers left and goes into the kitchen. For him, alcohol rhymes with triple chocolate ice cream. Once the container is retrieved form the freezer, he staggers towards the living room, plopping down on the couch next to a sprawled Kurt who watches him with hazy eyes. He eagerly starts plowing through the decadent treat, making contented noises as the rich taste invades his mouth.

 

A trickle of cream leaks from his mouth and starts sliding down. From what he can tell, Kurt can’t take his eyes off of it. Dave looks at him, curious and raises his hand to wipe the annoying drip but Kurt rises and stops him, fingers curling gently around the jock’s wrist.

 

He can’t move, hypnotized by the look of hunger growing on his boyfriend’s face. He numbly feels Kurt’s index glide across his chin, catching the drop of chocolate before it falls. Helpless, he watches the finger disappear slowly between Kurt’s pursed lips. The finger reappears with a popping sound. Dave’s latent arousal suddenly becomes very active and the heat spreads in his loins.

 

Kurt creeps in direction, his crouched position reminiscent of a certain _Push It_ rendition from years ago. Heavy hands seems to mimic the slow and steady walk of a panther. “ _He looks like one too, with those predatory eyes_ ” Dave thinks hazily. “ _Breathe!_ ” is the next thought in his head, but the sight of Kurt pushing himself forward, so seductive, is making it hard. He settles for hurried, ragged respirations as he watches the slim fingers climb up his leg. They rest momentarily on his aching hard-on before moving along to take care of his belt. They’re so nimble that it doesn’t take more than a second for his jeans to be unbuckled. One lift of the hips and pants, and underwear, are history.

 

The cool air on his skin finally prompts him to act and he discards his shirt as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough to his taste, a reluctant sleeve requires more attention. Therefore he misses the glorious sight of Kurt Hummel leaning forward and engulfing his engorged member to the hilt in one fluid motion. His hips buck forward involuntarily, making Kurt gag briefly. A hand glides over his thigh, calming him, while the other runs up his torso and starts playing with the chestnut hair there. “Ohhh!” he groans, more loudly than he cares for. They might be alone in the apartment but not in the building and his mind still manages to remember it.

 

Biting his lips with more-than-necessary force, he grabs Kurt by the shoulders and prevents him from continuing the spectacular blow job he's performing. The singer actually protests at the interruption, confusion and lust mingled painting a strange picture on his face.

 

He smiles reassuringly as he rises up. With a few decided moves, he drags his boyfriend to his room and undresses him, each item discarded with care but also promptly. Without hesitation, he picks him up and lays him down on the comforter.

 

He admires the boy sprawled over his covers until the urge to touch him becomes impossible to resist. It takes no time for him to climb up to rest next to Kurt’s offered body. His hands run over Kurt’s stomach, trace along the contracted abdominals and finally stop over his cock. He lets one descend further, caressing a trembling thigh, while the other closes around the hard erection. He strokes him slowly, excruciatingly so. After a few minutes of this torturous treatment, Kurt starts to whimper, each cries a little louder.

 

“Now, Dave, please, PLEASE… Ahh!” he begs, lips quivering. Kurt’s head is trashing around on the pillows, which prompts Dave to stop his motion. He slides his hands upwards, never breaking contact with Kurt’s skin, and catches his face between his palms, fingers gliding through the short hair. He presses his lips fervently against his lover’s and pulls away quickly.

 

Kurt opens his eyes when he misses Dave’s contact. They stare at each other and Dave seems to question the next move.  Without a word, the singer brings his hand up to his mouth, licking it thoroughly before wrapping it around Dave’s cock; he pumps away a few times, lubricating it. Dave lets out a shuddering moan and his eyelids flutter a few times. He opens them once Kurt’s hands leave him and he sees him reach between his cheeks. A finger disappears inside, quickly followed by another as Kurt stretches himself fast and efficiently.

 

“You sure?” he asks between tense breaths, unable to look away.

 

“Yes, please…”

 

Hearing this permission, Dave can’t wait any longer and swats Kurt’s hand away. He positions himself at Kurt’s entrance and eases his dick inside, inch by inch, slowly, delicately. Every one of his muscles is quaking from the restraint. It’s hard to maintain; the pressure, the _pleasure_ nearly makes him lose his mind. Kurt wraps his legs around Dave’s hips in a wordless plea, urging him on. One last push and they’re joined completely.

 

“My god… god, fuck! God!” the jock grunts, jaws clenched.

 

“You can call me Kurt, you know…” his lover chuckles breathlessly. However, that laugh quickly fades into amazed moans when Dave starts moving slowly inside Kurt. Each thrust is like a bolt of lightning, making his skin hypersensitive and his eyes fly shut under the pleasure. Kurt’s hips lift in unison with Dave’s pushes. He opens his eyes and is shocked to see Kurt’s flushed face and his eyes dark with desire. It turns him on even more. Through a haze of lust, he sees Kurt reaching for him. Sensing the boy’s need for contact, because the same ache runs through him, he stops briefly, slips his arm under the slender man’s back and lifts him into a tight embrace. Kurt’s arms automatically flings around Dave’s neck, holding on for dear life. The pace accelerates, Dave slamming his lover down to his lap with more force. His hands roam on the soft skin of Kurt’s back, relishing the goose bumps, the film of sweat that’s forming there, every sensation.

 

 

He can hardly believe it, _this is all happening_. The small figure cradled in his arms, the chanting moans of delight he’s provoking, the tantalizing shoulder he’s burying his face in, it’s all real. Once the realization hits him, control slips from him. He’s losing his mind, himself, into that moment of sheer passion. His grip tightens around Kurt’s waist, his thrusts become erratic… Almost straight after, his mind goes blank and his release comes, spilling into Kurt. The flashes of pleasure course through his spine. Panting helplessly in Kurt’s neck, he barely senses his lover’s own orgasm, splashing between their pressed bodies.

 

He feels his entire body melt a little more with each passing second. His hold loosens and he begins to fall forward. Last remains of conscience remind him to let Kurt lie down and to stop his fall before crushing him completely. Hands supporting him a few inches over the small boy, he contemplates his lover’s face, pale as usual but with crimson spots on the cheeks. Kurt’s hair is completely unruly, his lips are puffy from kissing and nibbling, his eyes are closed in bliss; basically he’s never looked sexier.

 

His arms can’t hold him any longer and he lets himself go, untangling himself from Kurt and lying down beside him. He scoots as close as he can, stopping when he’s completely encased with his boyfriend. A mix of scents (sweat and after-shave) fills his nostrils and he can’t resist sucking on the tight, perfumed flesh right below Kurt’s ear. A purr of contentment is his reward. One last kiss and soon enough, they fall into oblivion, sated.

 

A shrill siren startles them both, jerking Dave awake and making Kurt groan in disapproval.

 

“Don’t tell me you forgot to turn that thing off yesterday…” Kurt mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow.

 

“Sorry…” Dave whispers while slamming his hand haphazardly towards the offending noise. The clock is knocked down after a few attempts, silenced. Dave twists his head to look at Kurt and is surprised to see him already up, slipping his boxers back on. “Where are you going?” Dave asks, confused.

 

“Bathroom. I’m gonna take a shower if it’s okay.” Kurt replies, his voice a little coarse. He clears his throat and explains. “Once I’m awake, I can’t stay in bed.” He glances at the alarm clock on the floor. “Even if it’s only 5:30.” He pauses, surprised. “Whoa, how come you get up so early?” he inquires.

 

“It takes me forever to get up. I usually push the snooze button for a good hour before actually getting out of bed.” Dave answers, sheepish. He pushes himself into a sitting position, the blanket pooling into his lap. He runs his hand over his face, trying to rub the tiredness off. “It’s not like we have something to do today, why don’t you try to go back to sleep?” he asks.

 

“It’s no use; I know I won’t be able to. But why don’t _you_ join me?”

 

The sudden sultry tone makes Dave open his eyes. Kurt has an eyebrow cocked in a comical way and a devilish smile is playing across his lips. All thoughts of sleep evaporate from Dave’s mind and he idly wonders how in the world his boyfriend can be this sassy this early. He abandons this questioning within seconds and kicks the covers away. A few steps and he reaches the bathroom, Kurt didn’t wait for him, if the already running water is any indication.

 

The unforgiving and harsh light blinds him temporarily and he scrabbles for the switch, plunging the room into an eerie, bluish darkness. As expected, it earns him a shrill complaint that he casually ignores. Pushing the curtain, he infiltrates the bathtub behind Kurt who’s facing the ceramic wall.

 

“You want to get up, I want the night to continue. This is my compromise, we'll shower in the dark!” he announces.

 

The slender man spins around, surprise making him sway and slide. In extremis, Dave catches him and steadies him. The opportunity is too tempting and he keeps him flush against him while he advances in the tight space, trapping him between his chest and the end of the tub. His lips respond to the magnetic attraction of Kurt's dripping forehead, attaching themselves to his hairline. Nips alternating with light, reverent kisses, his mouth travels along the contour of Kurt's  face and heads for his shoulder. Kurt's response is merely a languid moan, a formidably enticing sound if he ever heard one.

 

Dave’s hands start traveling south, out of instinct, but Kurt thrusts his hips away in protest. “Stop, wait!” Kurt breathes. “I have to thank you. Right now.”

 

“What?” Dave asks. The shift in the mood brings back confusion on his mind. He never gets used to that, even if that dance is usual in their relationship. It comes with the territory of dating a diva.

 

“Just for how you are with me.” Kurt murmurs. “If someone had told me that I would find the most attentive, sweetest boyfriend in you, I would have probably doubled over laughing. Yet here you are.” Kurt threads his fingers in Dave's wet hair, who can feel the drenched curls sticking to the  caressing hands. He is drawn close and gives in, leading them to the gentlest of kisses.

 

A chuckle from Kurt makes them part, although their lips remain within an inch of one another's.

 

“What's so funny?” Dave asks.

 

“That damn body surfer... He absolutely ruined my moment!” Kurt laughs quietly. “My squealing wasn't supposed to be the first thing I'd say to you this year. I actually had something infinitely more meaningful, and let's say _dignified_ , planned!”

 

“Really?” Dave teases. He sounds amused but at the bottom of his stomach, hope is settling in, a warm, bubbling, _serious_ sensation. His better judgment is advising him to quell it on the spot, but the bright eyes and large smile of the guy in front of him is telling another story.

 

“Yes, really.” Kurt states. His arms tighten around Dave's neck. For a few seconds, nothing more is heard, both guys holding their breath while the water bouncing off Dave's back is filling the silence with its resonating sound.

 

A sigh leaves Kurt's lips. He glimpses down, playfulness gradually disappearing from his face. Just as Dave is starting to worry, Kurt's head springs back up. “I love you, Dave.” he says in a clear, firm voice.

 

No more than one second lapses for Dave to register what he just heard before Kurt goes on.

 

“I never said it to anyone, I've always had this deep conviction that it should only be said to the one, you know? I'd have to be sure and with you, I've been for a while. I didn't intend on making you wait but I figured it would start the new year on a romantic note...”

 

His hesitant smile melts Dave's heart. How can Kurt be so unsure, when Dave himself has been so obvious since the beginning? For once, there are no obstacles, no misunderstandings or unrequited feelings between them. For once, everything is simple, and most of all, clear. For once, Dave has the upper hand, the power to change things between them. No way in hell is he going to let it pass him by.

 

His hungry hands, still on Kurt's hips, glide further down and grab his ass, lifting him in one strong motion. Without instructions, Kurt locks his ankles around Dave's back and his arms around his neck, imprisoning Dave in a sensual embrace.

 

Once the balance is assured, Dave's hands trail back up to cradle Kurt's head. He plunges, losing himself a second in the infinite depth of the blue irises, darker in the ominous light, before speaking.

 

“Don't doubt, Kurt.” he pleads. “Never doubt.” He pauses, smiling while his hands massage softly the singer's neck. “You've known how I felt about you for years. You didn't just imagine it or played it up in your head. Whether I liked it or not, I've always been yours, even back then.”

 

He chuckles, burying his face in Kurt's shoulder in an unexpected attack of self-consciousness. “It's a stupid thing, really, but I wanted you to say it first. Sorta makes up for me jumping you first.”

 

Pulling back slightly, he brings his lips to the edge of Kurt's ear, feeling him tense in his arms. “I love you too, Fancy. Always have.” he whispers.

 

Kurt immediately relaxes and Dave barely lets him get out a small sigh of relief before capturing his lips. A few blissful seconds of soft kisses ensue, kisses that reach deeper because of their newly declared intimacy. Reality, or more specifically physics, catches up with them. Kurt’s thighs start to glue to Dave’s waist, an escalating burn that is in no way pleasurable. Dave shifts around; his feet are starting to slip… “Hum, Kurt, maybe I should put you down before…” he says after regretfully detaching his lips from Kurt’s addictive ones.

 

Kurt smiles. “Yeah. Might be a good idea.” He untangles himself, while Dave lowers him with caution. “Showering _à deux_ always sound better than it ends up to be, right?” he chuckles.

 

“I guess so. It was fun anyway, for the most part…” Dave murmurs. He presses one last kiss near Kurt’s temple, lingering in the fresh scent for a second before pulling away. “Go on, I’ll go after you.”

 

He exits the bathroom, flicking the light back on and grabbing his large towel on his way out. His feet head for the kitchen. Time for coffee, he decides.

 

When Dave comes into the living room with the steaming mugs, Kurt is staring out the window, eyes unfocused. Dave gently deposits the cups on the coffee table, walking towards the boy. He’s simply too enticing, standing there in just a loosely wrapped towel, skin glistening. Kurt must have heard him coming because he doesn’t flinch when two arms start circling his slim figure. The jock explores casually his damp hair with his nose and inhales deeply, before settling his head on Kurt’s shoulder, looking out like him. The golden rays of the rising sun suddenly turn the frost in the window iridescent.

 

“Looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day” Kurt says, so softly the serene atmosphere of the moment isn’t disturbed.

 

Dave smiles against his boyfriend’s cheek, before replying in an even lower tone. “Looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful year…”

 

He wouldn't dare say his true meaning, not yet. Even if he's got the feeling Kurt thinks it too. It doesn't matter, it'll still happen.

 

 

_Looks like it's gonna be a beautiful life..._

 


End file.
